


Next of Kin

by noodle_kugel



Series: Tikkun Olam [2]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman
Genre: 2007, 2008, Domestic Fluff, Domesticity, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Romance, Sequel, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2019-10-08 01:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17377031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodle_kugel/pseuds/noodle_kugel
Summary: After spending the summer in Italy reconnecting and falling in love with each other for the second time, Elio and Oliver begin planning their lives together. They navigate long distance, domesticity and romance, while raising Oliver’s teenage sons together. Meanwhile, Oliver’s sons, Ari and Vic, learn to accept Elio’s place in their lives, while they tackle relationships, school and impending adulthood.Note: This is a sequel to Tikkun Olam, but you do not need to have read it understand or enjoy the story.





	1. I Missed You: Part One

 

_**POV: Oliver** _

_**Thursday, August 30, 2007** _

Ari, Vic and I sat in the living room on Thursday evening watching the Red Sox game. They were losing to the Yankees, so we were all feeling grumpy.

“Oh, come on, he was safe!” Ari shouted at the television, to no one in particular.

“Calm down, it’s just a game,” Vic said.

“You get angry if someone misses one note in your concerts, I can get angry if the umpire makes a bad call,” Ari said, throwing a couch pillow at his brother.

“Boys, calm down,” I said. “Be nice to each other. You’re the only family the other’s got.”

Ari rolled his eyes and said, “Dad, I hate when you get morbid like that.”

“I’m sorry, Ari,” Vic said. I couldn’t tell if he was being sincere or trying to mollify me, but at least it stopped the boys from fighting.

The landline rang, and Vic reached over to grab the cordless phone, as he was closest to the set. “Hello? Oh, hey Elio! I’m doing good! Ari is good. Yeah, Dad’s right here, hold on,” he said, passing me the phone.

I stepped into the hallway and took the call. “Hey,” I said, grinning happily.

“The way you say that, with your voice getting lower, is so sexy,” Elio said. “You should talk to me like that when you fuck me tonight.”

“Shush, one of the boys could be on the line,” I said, laughing.

“They know how I feel about you. I can’t wait to see you.”

“How far away are you?” I asked.

“Less than an hour, I think. I’m at a rest stop in Massachusetts, I just wanted to pull over to get some more gas and stretch my legs.” Elio was driving up to visit us for Labor Day weekend. We’d figured out a visiting schedule for the first month or so, and we decided we’d feel it out from there after we see how we react to that much traveling. Since the boys and I flew home, I’d spoken to Elio every day, either on the telephone, video chat, or Skype. It helped, but I missed being with him, kissing him, sleeping next to him. The summer had spoiled us.

“Good, I can’t wait to see you. I think the boys are excited, too.” Ari started shouting at the television, so there was probably another bad play.

“Everything okay? Ari sounds upset,” Elio noted.

“Yeah, he’s fine. We’re watching the Sox, so something invariably went wrong.”

“I should get back on the road, but I’ll see you soon,” he said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. Drive safely.”

I hung up and went back into the living room to keep watching the game with my sons, but I was having a hard time paying attention.

About an hour later, on schedule, the doorbell rang. “Elio’s here!” Vic shouted, excitedly. He got up and ran to the door to open it, getting there before I could.

He opened the door, and shouted “Hi Elio!!!”, giving him a tight hug.

“Vic! It’s good to see you!” Elio said, happily returning the hug.

I stood off to the side, letting Vic greet Elio. The inning just ended, so Ari got up and went toward the door. “Hey, Elio,” he said, waving from the hallway between the foyer and the living room.

“Hi, Ari,” Elio said with a smile.

“Elio, I have so much I want to show you! I have all of my instruments and my piano, and all of the sheet music I have for all state orchestra this year! And we need to give you a tour of the house!” he said.

“Sounds great,” Elio said, looking at me longingly, but he very kindly kept humoring my younger son.

“Hey, Vic, there’s no way we’re going to win this game, why don’t we go out and get some ice cream and wallow in the misery of the impending loss to the Yankees? Dad, can we borrow the car?” Ari suggested. I nodded at him.

“But Elio just got here!” Vic said.

“I know, and he’ll be here when we get back. C’mon, we’ll go get the sundaes Dad usually doesn’t let us get because they’re too bad for you,” Ari said. He looked at me and then at Elio and nodded knowingly. He was giving us alone time. My sons were both incredible in their own ways.

I reached into my pocket and grabbed my wallet, handing Vic a twenty dollar bill. “Hot fudge sundaes, on me. Ari, please be careful?”

“Yes, Dad,” he said. He grabbed the keys to the car and the boys headed out.

“We’ll see you in a little while,” Vic said.

Once the boys locked the front door, Elio ran toward me and leapt into my arms, wrapping his arms around my neck and his legs around my waist. I turned him around so he was pressed against the wall. I kissed him roughly, and said, “I missed you so fucking much.”

“Less talking, more kissing,” he said, kissing me. I began carrying him toward the staircase to take him up to my (our? I think it was now officially our) bedroom. “As thin and as light as you are, I think I’ll injure myself carrying you up the stairs,” I said, laughing. He jumped down, walked behind me, and followed me as I led him to the bedroom.

“We’ll save the tour for later, we have more pressing issues right now,” I said.

“Like getting you out of those clothes as quickly as possible?” he said, biting his lip.

I grabbed his hand, and took him into the bedroom, locking the door behind me.

“So, this is the bedroom,” I said, pressing him against the door to kiss him more. He began tugging at my shirt, quickly pulling it over my head. I was a bit overeager, and when I went to grab his shirt, I accidentally tore it in half.

“I didn’t like this shirt anyway,” he said, laughing, as he kicked off his shoes and socks. He threw his ripped shirt to the side of the bed. We quickly helped the other out of his pants and boxers until we were standing naked at the foot of the bed.

I took a good look at him, from head to toe. Just the sight of him naked made me hard. “Fuck, I missed you,” I said, pushing him down on the bed, crawling on top of him.

He rolled me over so he was on top of me, and he grabbed my cock, taking as much of me as he could into his mouth. He briefly sucked my length, and then crawled back toward me, pressing his lips to mine once more. “I missed your cock. In my hand, in my mouth, inside of me. I’ve been dreaming about it for two weeks.”

“Are you just using me for my penis?” I asked, gently stroking his own length.

He moaned softly and said, “No, you give a pretty good blow job, too.”

“Pretty good?” I asked, gripping him slightly tighter. “I thought you once said it was mind-blowing?”

He smirked, and started laying a trail of kisses down my jawline, then back up my neck toward my ear. Elio whispered, “I don’t remember saying that. I guess you’ll have to remind me.”

“I’ll show you pretty good,” I said, rolling him onto his back, spreading his legs, and taking him in. I reached over to the night stand and grabbed the bottle of lube, which I had thankfully opened earlier in the day so I wouldn’t be trying to rip off the plastic wrap in this state. While I slowly sucked him, running my tongue underneath his shaft, I poured some lube on my finger, spread his legs wider, and inserted my finger, pressing inside of him until he moaned loudly. Just hearing him make these noises drove me wild. I was going to hear Elio moaning in pleasure as often as I wanted for the rest of my life. That thought made me quicken my pace, and I eventually added additional fingers.

“Oh, Oliver,” he said, bucking his hips up toward me. “This is incredible.” Once he came, I grabbed a condom, gave it to Elio to tear open for me, and rolled it on with my free hand. I removed my hand from inside of him, added more lube, and slowly pressed myself inside of him.

“I love you, Elio,” I said, rhythmically thrusting inside of him. He wrapped his legs around me, and I pressed myself closer to him, kissing his shoulders and chest. I needed to feel as close to him as possible. In no time, I peaked, moaning his name loudly.

As we sat together in bed, our bodies recovering in post-coital bliss, I heard the doorbell ring. The boys were probably back, and Ari was kind enough to give us a bit of a warning. As Elio’s shirt was now unwearable, he grabbed the shirt I had been wearing (which was several sizes too large on him, and also had the Tufts logo on it, the university where I taught), and put it on, smirking at me. I rifled through my drawer and grabbed another t-shirt and put that on instead. We quickly got dressed and went back down to the living room.

“We’re back! We brought you ice cream!” Vic shouted.

Elio walked down the staircase and said, “That sounds great, I haven’t had dinner yet.”

“Are you really going to have dessert before dinner?” I asked him. He nodded. “But I made you a plate from our dinner earlier!”

“I had Oliver first, now it's ice cream second, and dinner third,” he whispered to me, his stomach audibly rumbling. I hoped the boys didn't hear him.

Ari handed me a paper bag with two small containers in it. “The mint chocolate chip is for you, we got hazelnut for Elio because we know how much he likes Nutella.”

Elio grabbed the container and a plastic spoon, and began to eat before we even reached the dining room table. “This is great, thank you,” he said, licking his spoon.

“Ari took me to the good ice cream place in Newton instead of the one a few blocks from here. He said since you were paying, we’d might as well get better ice cream,” Vic said, plopping himself onto a seat at the table.

Ari sat next to his brother, and gave me a slight nod. “Nice shirt, Elio,” he commented. Elio’s cheeks turned pink.

“Do you want your dinner now?” I asked. Elio nodded, finishing off his ice cream. I went into the kitchen to heat up the plate I had put together, and brought it into the dining room with a glass of water. Vic joined me so he could grab a napkin and utensils for Elio.

“What do we have planned for the weekend?” Elio asked, shoving a stalk of broccoli into his mouth.

“I figured we could show you around Brookline and around the area tomorrow. We’ll grill tomorrow night while the weather is still nice. Vic’s birthday is Sunday – Vic, have you decided where you want to go yet?”

Vic had decided he didn’t want a birthday party – we would only have a couple of weeks to plan it, the Bar Mitzvah was a lot for him, and he didn’t have too many friends to invite, anyway. He had told me he just wanted to go out for dinner and dessert as a family, and that would be good enough.

“I think I want to go to that nice sushi place in Boston, the one we went to with Mom after she won that teaching award,” he said.

I nodded. “I’ll call them and make a reservation, then.”

Ari’s cell phone was buzzing, and he said, “I’ll be in my room, Jasmine is calling.”

Elio finished eating, and he followed me into the kitchen so I could wash his dishes. As I stood by the sink, he stood behind me, and wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Thank you for dinner, it was delicious,” he said, resting his head against my shoulder. I grabbed a dish towel and handed it to Elio so he could dry the plate and put it on the drying rack.

“I think I’m going to like being domestic with you,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back! I couldn't stay away from these boys for too long.
> 
> This part of the story is going to cover the next year or two of their lives. Some chapters will be slice of life, but I know where I want to take the story.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!


	2. I Missed You: Part Two

_**POV: Oliver** _

_**Thursday, August 30-Friday, August 31, 2007** _

After we cleaned up, Vic and I took Elio for a tour of the house, showing him where everything is, and told him stories about various items we’d accumulated.

“See this vase?” Vic said, pointing at a misshapen vase in the hallway. Elio nodded. “Aunt Doris and Aunt Agnes bought it for Mom for her birthday one year. Mom thought it was ugly, but they come over often enough that we had to keep it out in case they just showed up. When I was maybe six or seven years old, Ari and I were playing catch in the house, and when he threw it to me, I missed, and it knocked over the vase. Mom was thrilled that we’d never have to have this stupid thing out again, but Aunt Doris came over and sat and glued it back together herself.”

“Now we keep it out because she glued it together wrong and it looks hilarious,” I added.

Elio stood for a while looking at the various framed photos in the living room. “Deb was beautiful,” he said, squeezing my hand.

“She was,” I said.

“She was a great mom,” Vic added, sighing sadly. “I miss her a lot.”

Elio went over to the mantle and looked at an old Halloween picture of the boys, where they were dressed as Buzz Lightyear and Woody. “This is the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” he said, grabbing the picture frame and taking a closer look.

Ari came back downstairs a while later, and sat back on the couch.

“We never actually brought Elio’s things inside. Ari, can you help us carry them?” I asked. He nodded.

We went out to the car, and grabbed Elio’s suitcase, and two wrapped boxes, one that was long and taking up the entire backseat of the car.

“Is this for Vic?” he asked. We both nodded.

We carried the items into the house, trying to hide the boxes, but Vic noticed the wrapping paper. “Is that for me?” he asked.

“Yes, I was going to give it to you on Sunday, but I guess we can give it to you now,” Elio said, looking at me for permission. I nodded.

We carried the two heavy boxes to the couch, and Elio said, “Open the smaller one first.”

He tore open the wrapping paper, and it was a new Mac laptop. “Oh my god!” he shouted, picking up the box and reading the specs on the side. “This is too much, you didn’t have to do this.”

“It’s not just from me, it’s from my parents, too. Open the second one,” Elio said, with a big grin.

Vic ripped open the second box, and inside was a digital keyboard, not dissimilar from the one Elio used in Italy to compose music on his computer.

“Holy shit!” he said, covering his mouth after he swore. “Sorry, Dad,” he said.

“My parents and I figured you might want something to do your compositions on, and I’ve found it’s much easier to do it on the computer rather than on paper. You need a new, fast computer that’s compatible with the keyboard and the software, so, here we go. Happy birthday, Vic!”

Vic placed everything gingerly onto the couch, and ran over to Elio to hug him.

“You’ll help me set this up this weekend?” he asked, and Elio nodded.

Ari sat back on the couch and looked grumpy. He was seventeen, and he was still jealous when his brother received presents for his birthday. “How come Vic gets a new computer, and he’s not even in high school?” he muttered under his breath.

“Grow up, Ari. You know you’re going to get a new laptop when you start college,” I said.

“Can I tell him?” Elio asked, a silly grin on his face. I looked over, and it was too late now. He had to.

“Tell him what?” Ari asked, looking confused.

Elio reached into his pocket, and threw his car keys at Ari. “Catch,” he said.

Ari caught the keys, and asked, “Do you have something for me? Is it in the car?” he asked, twiddling the keys in his fingers.

“No, it IS the car,” Elio said.

Ari’s jaw dropped, and he looked at Elio and myself. “What?”

“If I’m going to be driving a few hundred miles a week every week, I need a newer car that can handle it, so my parents and I decided that we’d pay off the rest of my car, and we’d give it to you,” Elio said.

Vic grinned widely, happy for his brother. “And Dad, you said this was okay?” Ari asked.

I nodded. “I thought it was a great idea. But, if you have your own car, you have to help pay for car insurance and gas. And run errands whenever I need you, including taking your brother to school or picking him up when I can’t be there.”

Ari ran over to Elio and hugged him, too. “Thank you, thank you, this is amazing,” he said.

“You’re welcome,” Elio said. “I drove it up for you now, and I’m going to take the train back. I got my new car earlier in the week.”

\--

The next day, I took Elio for a tour of our town, driving around, showing him the various exciting landmarks, like the old Dunkin Donuts and the newer Dunkin Donuts.

“I know it’s not as beautiful or as wonderful as Italy, but it’s our home,” I said.

“I don’t care where we live, as long as I’m with you,” Elio said. “I’m sure I’ll love it here. Because you and the boys are here. And the Boston area is charming.”

We pulled over into a parking lot, of a third Dunkin Donuts (a constant reminder that we lived in New England), and I kissed him gently.

“I love you so much. I’m so happy you’re here.”

I had already gone to the supermarket to stock up for the week, but we stopped at the butcher and a fish store on the way home so we’d have something to grill tonight.

When we got home, the boys were in Ari’s room, playing a video game.

“What do you guys think about grilling some steaks and salmon tonight?” I asked, poking my head in. Neither of them looked away from the screen.

“Sounds good, Dad,” they muttered, and they kept banging away on their controllers.

“The only video game I was ever decent at was _Tetris_ ,” Elio said, as we stood in the doorway watching them play their game.

“I was pretty good at _Pac-Man_ myself,” I said.

The television showed some sort of explosion and Vic threw down his controller. “Ugh, I never win,” he said.

“Better luck next time,” Ari said, with a smirk.

“Why can’t we just play _Guitar Hero_? I’m good at that!” Vic said.

Elio looked at me. “What’s _Guitar Hero_?”

I shrugged. “One of the many games I’ve bought for them that they rarely play. I played with them once, it’s kind of fun.”

“Elio, you would actually like it, I think. It plays real songs, and you play a fake guitar with some colorful buttons on the fretboard, and you hit the buttons on the screen to the tune of the song. It sort of emulates playing the guitar.”

“Sounds complicated,” Elio said.

“It’s pretty easy, even Dad can do it,” Ari said.

“I’ll go grab the guitars, we can play,” Vic suggested.

Vic left the room and came back a few minutes later with two guitar controllers.

“Here, you take one and I’ll take the other,” Vic said, as Ari found the disc and loaded the game on his _PlayStation_.  “So, we can play against each other, or we can play together, and one of us plays the bass line or the rhythm guitar part,” he explained.

“Let’s play together,” Elio said.

Ari and I sat on his bed while Elio and Vic strapped on the guitars.

“Pick a song,” Vic said, scrolling quickly through the list of options.

“What about _Carry On My Wayward Son_?” Elio said, looking at the song list.

Vic very quickly went over the mechanics of the guitar and the instructions, and loaded the song so they could play. Elio, unsurprisingly, was very good at the game. After he got used to handling the controls, he and Vic got a top score.

We spent the next couple of hours playing the game, alternating which two of us were at the controls. I was terrible, and Ari insisted on playing the bass parts, where applicable, because “he was used to playing the bass line on trombone in band,” even though I knew it was because he was frustrated that Vic was much better at the game than he was.

After we decided to stop playing, Elio and I went outside to prep the grill and begin making dinner. Elio made a marinade for the salmon, and folded each piece of fish into a foil wrapper. I cleaned some asparagus and lightly coated it in olive oil to grill later.

We sat in the backyard as the sun set, eating our salmon, steaks, and asparagus, enjoying the last of the summer weather before the inevitably blustery New England winter. Elio and I split a bottle of wine, and we let Ari have one small glass. I figured he’d been allowed to drink all summer, and if I let him drink at home, he’d be less likely to binge drink with his friends. Vic took a sip of my wine and grimaced. “I don’t think I like wine, I didn’t even like the wine in Italy this summer,” he said. He was my son and Deb’s son, so he’d probably develop a taste for it, but it was better that it happened at a later age.

After dinner, Elio and I went up to the bedroom, slightly tipsy from the wine.

We sat down on the edge of the bed and I wrapped my arm around his waist. I kissed his neck, and he tilted his head, giving me more skin to work on. Elio sighed happily as I gently nipped at his neck and ear, careful not to leave a mark. He pulled his shirt off, and I laid a trail of kisses down his chest and stomach.

Before long, we had both torn off most of our clothes, and he made his way toward the pillows. We made love for eons, slowly, passionately, tenderly. When he moaned loudly, I leaned down to kiss him. “Shh, we can’t be as loud as we were in the villa. This house isn’t that big,” I said, pressing my lips to his to stifle his noises.

“But **you’re**  still that big, and I don’t know how quiet I can be,” he said between moans, returning the kiss with an intense hunger.

After, he was sprawled on his back, and I looked down at him, his hair a mess, his face sweaty and flushed. I grinned at him.

“What?” he asked, with a shy laugh.

“I just can’t believe you’re here, in Massachusetts, naked, in my bed. Do you know how sexy you look, with your post-fuck glow? I am the luckiest man in the world.”

Elio grabbed me and pulled me down next to him, placing his head on my chest. “I’m the lucky one. I get to spend my life with you.”

Between the wine and the lovemaking, we were exhausted, and fell asleep in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so happy that you're all as excited as I am to return to this world with Oliver, Elio, Ari and Vic. Thank you so much for your comments on the first chapter!


	3. Couldn't Be Happier: Part One

_**POV: Elio** _

_**Saturday, September 1-Sunday, September 2, 2007** _

Oliver let me sleep in on Saturday, and said that we’d go for a long run in the late morning or early afternoon instead. How considerate. I didn’t think I would ever get used to his fitness routine, but if that was going to be the most annoying part of being with him, I could handle it. He was worth it.

After being forced to exercise once more, we came back, took a long shower together. I was thankful that the master bedroom had a bathroom inside, and the boys didn't know we were inside together, because they would have been very embarrassed about the various skillful ways their father was using his mouth and tongue on me. 

Ari was going to the movies with his friends that evening to see _Superbad_ , taking the car out for its first spin, so Oliver was going to take me out for dinner on a date. He didn’t often leave Vic home alone, so Oliver didn’t want to go too far away in case Vic called.

"Elio and I both have our cell phones on, so call us if you need anything," Oliver said before we left.

"DA-AD! I'm fine! Go enjoy your date," Vic said warmly.

He took me to a Spanish restaurant a couple of miles from their house. The restaurant was dimly lit, and each table had several candles for ambiance and lighting. We decided to order several tapas, as well as a bottle of red wine to share. When we sat down, Oliver looked around, possibly to see if he knew anyone. I thought he was still getting used to being with me in public, on his domain, but I appreciated that he was trying. Over bacon-wrapped dates, fried Manchego cheese, and lamb skewers, we talked about the next few months, and how things were going to work now that we were back in the States. We’d worked out the first month, but we were trying to plan for the next month.

“We have Sharon’s daughter’s Bat Mitzvah in Seattle in October – the invitation was mailed while we were in Italy, and she said that you are invited with us. You’re going to go, right?”

I nodded. “After I spoke with her on the phone, I think I have to. She wants to meet me. Should I drive up to Boston first and fly with you, or just fly from Newark or Philly and meet you there?”

“I mean, it’d probably be easier if you flew separately, it’d save you ten hours of travel,” he said realistically.

“I’d rather fly with you,” I said, thinking about my morbid thoughts on our flight to Paris the previous month. “I always want to be with you. But you’re right. We should probably book flights soon.”

“I might pull the boys out of school for an extra day or two so we can spend a few days out there.”

“I’ve never actually been to Seattle. I went to a music conference in Portland once, that’s the closest I’ve been,” I said.

Oliver squeezed my hand. I was so happy that he was holding my hand in public, in his town. He was still working out some of his internalized homophobia, but I was so proud of how brave he was being, even in his small gestures. “I think you’ll like it there. The food is good, there’s a ton to do outdoors, and you’d probably enjoy the music history there.”

I occasionally looked at my phone to see if Vic had called, and Oliver was doing the same. "Should we worry that he hasn't called?" I asked.

"This is what being a parent is like," Oliver said. "The constant paranoia and fear that something is happening to your children. I'm sure things are fine. He would have called if something bad had happened... but let me call him just in case," he said, taking out his phone.

"Hey Vic, I just wanted to see how you were... everything is quiet? Great!... We'll be home within the hour... No, I will not stop to pick up ice cream for you... Ari said he'd be home around midnight or 1... We'll see you soon."

* * *

 

I wanted to tear off Oliver’s clothing the minute we walked back into the house, but he went to Vic’s room to check on him and make sure he was still fine. We had left him money to order a pizza, and he spent the majority of the evening playing piano and watching television. I was worried for nothing.

Once we got back to the bedroom, I locked the door behind us and immediately pushed Oliver onto the bed. We were naked in no time, and we wasted no time.

After we fooled around for a while, I fumbled for a condom. “How much longer until we don’t have to wear these?” I asked.

“Too long. Until the middle of October,” he said, looking up at me with a smirk.

While I was inside of him, he moaned loudly, and I leaned down to kiss him, mocking his actions from the night before. “We have to be quiet, remember?”

I thrust a bit more forcefully to tease him. “Fuck,” he said, biting his lip. “Maybe we should just soundproof the room.”

As I climaxed, I thought about how this was what I had been dreaming about for twenty years, a life and a future with Oliver, and I couldn’t be happier.

* * *

Sunday was Vic’s birthday, which meant it had been officially one year since my reacquaintance with Oliver had begun. One year since Vic’s Bar Mitzvah. One year since the kiss that changed our lives again.

Oliver and I went for a slow jog in the morning. I was out of shape, not having run in the past two weeks, and after running the past two days, I was sore. Oliver promised that he’d give me a massage later, and I was going to make him live up to his word.

I spent the better part of the morning sitting with Vic, helping him set up his new computer. I showed him how the composing software worked, and how to connect the keyboard so that the notes he played on the keys showed up on the screen, and how to edit the notes in the software. The whole process is fairly complicated, but he caught on easily, actually figuring out how to do some things I didn’t even know.

* * *

When I was sitting on the couch on my laptop before lunch, my video chat was unexpectedly ringing, and my parents were calling.

“Elio!” my father said. Before I left, I showed them how to use video chat, so we could do that instead of or in addition to our weekly Skype sessions.

“Hi, papá, is everything okay?”

“Everything is great! Your maman and I just wanted to see how everything was going, and we wanted to wish Vic a happy birthday!”

I smiled. “Everything is going well here! Oliver showed me around his town, I’m pretty settled in here, and I’m getting used to hearing the Boston accent everywhere.”

“So you’re not getting ready to pahk your cah in Hahvahd yahd in the spring?” my father said, laughing at his joke.

My mother sat down next to my father, and waved at me. “Elio, mon cheri! Good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, maman. It’s only been a week, but it’s nice seeing you instead of just hearing you.”

There was a bit of a lag in their video, but I could still hear them fine.

“Have you given the boys their presents yet?”

“I have. They’re both really excited. Do you want me to go grab Vic so you can wish him a happy birthday?”

“That would be lovely, sweetheart. Grab the others, too, if they’re around. I’d love to see Oliver and Ari, too!”

I told them to hold on a minute, put my laptop on the coffee table, and shouted for everyone to come to the living room. “Shouting without leaving the room, you’re already a Morgenstern,” Oliver joked, as he came into the room.

“Sammy, Annella, good to see you!” he said, grabbing my laptop and carrying it so he could talk to my parents. I sat on the couch and waited for them to finish talking.

“Thank you SO much for the computer and the keyboard!” Vic said, after my parents and Mafalda insisted on singing _Happy Birthday_ to him in Italian. “It’s the best gift I’ve ever received.”

“We’re glad you liked it. Make good use of it, write some beautiful music,” my mother said.

“And thank you for the car!” Ari said. “I’m going to be one of my only friends with my own car! This is AWESOME!”

“It was mostly Elio’s idea, and most of it was paid for by him, but we’re glad to have helped,” my father said.

The boys spoke with my parents for a few more minutes, before they handed the laptop back to me.

“When do you head back to Milan?” I asked. “Next week?”

My father nodded. “The semester starts in a week, so we’re heading out there in a few days. I’ll let you know when we’re back.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let you know when I’m back in New Jersey. I’ll send an email because you might be asleep or just be waking up. I have a pretty late train on Monday.”

“We love you,” my mother said.

“Love you, too.” I said, blowing a kiss before I exited the chat window. I often thought about how lucky I was to genuinely have the best family in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the next chapter are going to finish out Elio's first visit. Deb's nosy aunts will be making an appearance at Rosh Hashanah (a couple of chapters from now), for those of you who were wondering! Some chapters will just be snippets from Elio's and Oliver's lives, cute fluffy pieces, and others will progress the plot. Ari and Vic will narrate some chapters, too. I hope the domesticity isn't too boring!
> 
> Thank you all for your lovely words :)


	4. Couldn't Be Happier: Part Two

_**POV: Elio** _

_**Sunday, September 2 - Monday, September 3, 2007** _

Before we left for Vic's birthday  dinner, Oliver went into his bedroom and pulled out a wrapped present from his closet. “Vic, I wanted to give you your present before we go.”

“The laptop and keyboard were enough, Dad,” he said.

“I know, but that’s from Elio and his parents, not from me. I wanted to get you something nice, too.”

"You gave me a whole summer in Italy, you really didn't have to get me anything..." Vic took the box from Oliver and opened it. “A DSLR camera? Oh my god!” he said, jumping up and down. “A real, fancy camera?”

He nodded. “You took so many nice pictures this summer, and I wanted to get you a good camera so you can keep taking more pictures.”

“You have a good artistic eye,” I added.

“This is amazing!” he said. Oliver had said to me earlier that he didn’t like spoiling his kids, but Vic deserved everything he’d received this weekend. He was a good kid, and he’d been through a lot these past few years. Oliver was glad to indulge a bit so Vic could explore his creativity and passions.

Ari harrumphed once more. “Were you expecting a camera, too?” Oliver asked him sarcastically.

“No. It’s just, you totally ruined the gift that I got for him,” he said. He ran up the stairs and grabbed a gift bag, and handed it to Vic. “I guess you can open it now. We can return it and get something else.”

Ari had bought Vic a Polaroid camera and some film. “No, I love this, Ari!” he said, giving his brother a hug.

“But Dad got you an actual good camera, this is just a toy by comparison.”

“No, it’s great. Polaroids are so cool, you can take retro and artsy pictures that you can’t do with a regular camera!”

“I had no idea he had bought him something,” Oliver said to me.

Ari nodded. “I had some lifeguarding money saved up, and I wanted to get him something he’d like for his birthday.”

Oliver put his head on my shoulder, proud of both of his boys.

“I’ll learn how to use both of these after dinner. Thank you, all of you, for the presents. They were all so thoughtful.”

When we piled into Oliver’s car to drive into Boston, Ari remarked, “I’m taller than Elio. Why do I have to sit in the backseat? Mom would let me sit in the front seat once I was taller than her.”

I turned around to face Ari. “I can switch if we pull over,” I offered.

Oliver shook his head. “Elio, that’s not necessary. Ari, age twenty years overnight and then we can revisit this,” Oliver said.

We were each wearing a nice button down shirt and a pair of slacks - it was almost comical how similarly we were all dressed. Oliver looked particularly nice in the pale green shirt I picked out for him when he asked what he should wear. I didn’t think I would ever get over how good he looked, in whatever he wore, especially when it was nothing at all. When we arrived at the restaurant, a hostess took us to our seats, and handed us menus. The restaurant was decorated in various Japanese ephemera and kitsch.

Oliver and I ordered sake, and he told Vic to order whatever food he wanted from the menu. We could splurge because he wasn’t having a birthday party. He suggested gyoza and edamame for the table, and ordered a platter of several different rolls for himself. Ari ordered the spiciest options on the menu, and Oliver and I decided to order several different rolls to share. Vic had good taste – it was surprisingly some of the best sushi I’d ever eaten, and I’d had sushi in both Japan and California.

Vic refused to let the restaurant sing to him or acknowledge his birthday, so instead, earlier in the day, Oliver and I bought an ice cream cake to eat at home. Going out for dinner in Boston with Oliver and his sons was wonderful, and it felt reassuring that Vic wanted to include me in his family dinner.

He asked if we could stop for ice cream on the way home for dessert (this kid had a one track mind), and Oliver said that we already had dessert taken care of. He told us to sit at the table, and he went to the freezer to pull out the ice cream cake, which said “Happy 14 th Birthday, Vic!”. He quickly lit candles, and brought the cake to the table. Ari, Oliver and I sang to him, thoroughly embarrassing him, and waited until he blew the candles out before we dug into the cake.

“Ice cream cake!” Vic shouted, excitedly. “The best kind of cake! I love the layer with the crunchies!”

“Me too,” Ari said, quickly grabbing a piece and devouring it.

“Don’t eat too much, we’ll save the rest for the barbecue tomorrow when Howie comes over with Tanner and Sabrina.”

“It’s nice that you and Howie are friends again, you used to be best friends. What happened?” Vic asked.

“Divorce makes things awkward. Your mother was best friends with Jill, and it was easier for everyone if she took Jill’s side, which meant I didn't get to see Howie as often.”

“Why do you have to take sides in a divorce?” Vic asked.

“Have you ever had two friends who dated and then broke up? It’s like that, except they were together for nearly twenty years and have children together. It’s that much more uncomfortable and awkward for all of their friends,” Oliver said. Vic nodded in understanding.

* * *

Labor Day was upon us. I wasn’t ready to go back to New Jersey, but at least I had a nice long weekend with Oliver and the boys, and I still had a morning and afternoon to enjoy before the first of many trips home from Boston. Around noon, Howie arrived, with his two children. Tanner was a year younger than Ari, and Sabrina was Vic’s age.

The kids immediately ran inside, and Ari said they would set up the Wii in the living room so they could all play video games together.

Howie walked in behind the kids, and walked over to us, giving Oliver a hug. “Good to see you, Ollie!” he said. He was nearly a foot shorter than Oliver, but probably weighed the same, and was starting to lose his hair, but he was friendly and kind. He walked over to me, looking me over from head to toe. “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person, Elio!” he said, giving me a hug, too. I could see why Oliver said he was the center of their friend group in graduate school, he had such a warm and goofy personality.

“C’mon, we’ll go to the backyard and have a beer or two before it’s time to grill,” Oliver said, ushering us toward the backyard.

Howie and I sat across from each other, and Oliver sat at the head of the table between us. He handed us each a beer, and we sat and relaxed in the warm end of summer weather. “So, I know what Oliver has told me about you, but tell me about yourself!” Howie said, leaning back into his chair.

We acquainted ourselves – I gave him the briefest summary of my background and what I did, he did the same (he met Oliver in graduate school at Columbia, teaches Jewish studies at Brandeis now).

“I can see why your torch kept burning for our dear Ollie, he’s hard to resist,” Howie said, jokingly pinching Oliver’s cheek.

“Eh, he’s okay,” I said, smirking at Oliver.

As we sat around chatting and drinking beer, I noted, “I think this is the most American thing I’ve ever done, drinking beer at a backyard barbecue on Labor Day.”

“What, you’ve never ridden a tractor while shooting your gun and flying an American flag?” Howie joked.

Oliver went inside to get the meat to start shaping the burger patties so we could grill the burgers later.

“I could tell you some stories about Ollie that might change your opinion of him,” Howie said, taking another sip of beer.

“Howie, please don’t embarrass me,” Oliver said. “I think I’ve told Elio most of my graduate school stories at this point.”

“I don’t know, maybe there are some stories I haven’t heard. Anything I should know about, Howie?” I asked, with my eyebrow raised.

Howie scratched his chin and began thinking. “Well, he was always the hit of all of our parties, with his bartending skills,” he said. “He could mix a drink like no one else.”

I nodded. “That much I already knew, though I think in his old age, he prefers most of his liquor straight up instead of a cocktail.”

“Old age? I’m a couple of years older than he is! Am I old?” Howie said. “Ollie’s the whiz kid who finished college in three years and his PhD in four. Some of us take a normal amount of time to finish school.”

“Or, some of us worked hard to finish four year of school in three years so we didn’t have to pay an additional year of tuition,” Oliver said. “And yes, you’re old.”

After he worked the patties and went inside to wash his hands, Oliver sat down next to me again, and absentmindedly grabbed my hand. Howie jokingly rested his elbows on the table and placed his chin on his clasped hands. “I’m so happy for you two, you are so adorable,” he said, flitting his eyelashes.

Oliver quickly let go of my hand, embarrassed. “Sorry, does this bother you?”

“Would I have come over today if it bothered me? I’m happy that you’ve found someone you love and who loves you, especially after you lost Deb. I don’t care that you’re bi, that you’re with a man. I was used to you dating women, but Elio’s great.”

“Thank you,” I said, blushing.

“If I’m being honest, I’m jealous. I haven’t even been on a date in over a year. Dating in your forties is HARD, especially after a divorce,” Howie said, chugging the rest of his beer. “Not everyone wants to date someone with kids, and with the partial custody, my schedule is erratic.”

Oliver put his hand on Howie’s back. “You’ll find someone. Have you tried online dating? A few divorcees and widows from my synagogue have had some success on JDate.”

Howie shook his head. “No, but maybe I should,” he said.

Oliver got up and heated up the grill. He went inside to grab some corn that he and I had shucked earlier in the day.

“Did you know that Ollie was a dancing machine in grad school?” Howie mentioned.

In his apron and holding a spatula, Oliver began pretending to disco dance next to the grill. “I’ve seen his moves, he can shake it,” I said, laughing.

“When we’d go to bars or parties, he’d have a drink or two and then spend the rest of the night on the dance floor. All of the ladies fought for a chance to dance with him.”

I laughed and looked over at Oliver. “I guess some things haven’t changed. We went dancing this summer and all eyes were on him.”

“That’s just because I was a head taller than everyone else in the room,” Oliver noted while he flipped a hamburger.

Howie and I each grabbed a second beer while Oliver cooked. “He’s a grill master, you’ll love his hamburgers,” Howie said. “Though, if it’s even moderately edible, it’ll be better than what Deb would have cooked.”

“The boys have told me about how she wasn’t a great cook.”

“That’s overselling it. She was a wonderful person and we loved her dearly, but she was NOT a good cook. Things were either raw or burnt, nothing in between.”

Oliver shook his head. “That’s not entirely true. She made decent salads…” he added with a laugh. “It was okay, I like cooking and I didn’t mind cooking for the family.” When I was a teenager, I never thought I’d be with a forty-something year old Oliver, sitting in his backyard while he grilled for us on Labor Day. As he stood over the hot grill, sweat glistened on his forehead, and the sun made his dark blonde hair look lighter.

Once the burgers were ready, Oliver poked his head inside and shouted for the kids to come outside. They all ran out, Vic and Ari elbowing each other to get out the door first, and took seats at the table as Oliver served us burgers and hot dogs.

I took a bite of my medium rare cheeseburger. “This is delicious,” I said, savoring each bite.

“Told ya he made a good burger!” Howie said, sinking his teeth into his own burger.

Howie’s son and daughter asked me questions about my work and about growing up in Italy. “I’m jealous,” Sabrina said. “We’ve only left the country once, and it was to go to Israel after Tanner’s Bar Mitzvah.”

“That’s not true, we’ve been to Montreal,” Tanner said.

Sabrina stuck her tongue out at her brother. “That doesn’t count. We drove there. And I was little and barely remember that.”

“We haven’t traveled that much,” Vic said. “We went to Toronto a few years ago, and traveled around Italy when I was too little to remember.”

“Yeah, but you spent the entire summer in Italy, and go to go to Paris, too! Your pictures made it look so awesome,” Sabrina said.

“Why do all of our children have such wanderlust? Why can’t they just want to stay close to us?” Oliver said, eavesdropping on their conversation.

Ari laughed. “Because Massachusetts sucks and we all want to get the hell out of here as soon as we can. You don’t actually like it here, do you?”

Oliver shrugged. “I like it. We have a nice house, you go to good schools, it’s safe here, I like my job. It’s not as exciting as it was to live in Manhattan in the 80s, but you guys have a nice life here.”

Vic swallowed a bit of his hot dog and said, “I like it here, Dad. I mean, I’d like New York City more, but it’s nice here.”

“I like it better here than I liked growing up in suburban New Jersey,” Howie offered.

Ari grabbed a bottle of beer and Oliver swatted his hand to prevent him from grabbing it. “That’s not saying much. And isn’t all of New Jersey a suburb?”

“Pretty much the entire state is a suburb,” I said “But that’s comforting. The closest I’ve lived to here was in Providence, but I’ll be moving up here in January.”

I’d be lying if I had said I wasn’t nervous about the move. This weekend had been wonderful, but it was only my first weekend with Oliver and the boys. They were still stepping on eggshells to make sure that I felt comfortable and at home. It would still take some time to see how I’d fit in their lives in the long term.

“Ollie said you’ll be at his alma mater!” Howie said.

“Yeah, I’ll be a visiting professor at Harvard in the spring. I’ll spend the semester either praying that they’ll want me full-time after that, or I’ll apply for other teaching jobs in the area for next fall. The music department at Brown has said I’m always welcome back there, but I don’t know if I could handle that commute every day. Either way, I’m hoping to be up here permanently starting in the spring semester.”

Oliver grabbed my hand and squeezed it. We were making permanent plans. Our lives were fully intertwined and we were making decisions about our long-term future. Sabrina instinctively gripped onto Vic’s arm as she let out a high pitched squeal, and said, “You two are so cute together!”

After we ate our burgers, hot dogs and corn, Oliver went inside to grab more plates and the remainders of the ice cream cake. “I probably don’t need to tell you kids this, but grab a slice and eat it quickly before it melts out here in the heat,” Oliver said,

We all dug into the ice cream, enjoying the remainders of the cake and the summer. Vic soon ran inside to grab his acoustic guitar, and suggested I play something for everyone. I couldn’t refuse, so I took the guitar, made sure it was tuned (it was Vic’s, so of course it was), and took requests as I played a few songs for everyone to sing along to. Even Ari seemed to be enjoying himself.

As the Levinsons were getting ready to leave, I heard Sabrina talking to Vic in the hallway. “Your dad’s boyfriend is SO cool! You’re really lucky your dad found someone so great. My father doesn’t date at all, and the few men my mother’s dated are boring accountants or architects with no personality.”

Vic said, “Yeah, I miss my mom a lot, but Elio is really great. He’s good to my dad, and to us. Also, he spent a lot of time teaching me piano and composition this summer, even before he and my dad got together.”

“Do you think they’re going to get married?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Vic responded. “He’s moving in with us in the spring. I think they might in the future. I wouldn’t mind that.”

I rubbed my eyes with my sleeve, catching a few tears. Listening to Vic’s honest opinions of me warmed my heart. Maybe this thing Oliver and I were doing wasn’t so crazy. I walked toward the kitchen, where Oliver was wrapping some leftover cooked burger patties in foil for Howie to take home with him. I stood behind Oliver, wrapped my arms around his waist, and hugged him tightly, purring softly.

“You okay?” he asked.

“I’m great. Everything’s perfect,” I said, nuzzling my head against his shoulder. He turned around, gave me a quick kiss, then resumed handing Howie some leftovers.

The drive to the station in Boston that evening was melancholy. “This isn’t fair, I’m not going to see you for almost two weeks,” I said, pouting.

“I know, but you’ll be here for almost a week for Rosh Hashanah, we’ll make up for lost time then,” he said, giving me a quick glance before looking back at the road. “You can’t skip your music faculty event next Saturday, Ari has a soccer game I shouldn’t miss on Friday evening, and and I have to take Vic shopping for school clothes over the weekend. He's growing faster than we can outfit him. We knew this was going to be tough, but we’ll be together full-time soon.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m just being selfish. I want you to myself all of the time.”

“You’ll have me soon enough,” he said.

He pulled the car over a few blocks from the train station. It was hurried, but passionate. “What was that for?” I asked.

“Just wanted to get in one more kiss before you left, just in case I couldn’t pull over at South Station.”

I grinned and said, “I love you, Oliver. We’re going to make this work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a few awkward video chats over the summer, Elio finally meets Oliver's friend Howie! Oliver is trying so hard to integrate Elio into his life.
> 
> Thank you all for your comments and support, as always :)


	5. Fisticuffs

_**POV: Ari** _

_**Wednesday, September 5, 2007 - Monday, September 10, 2007** _

  
"Mr. Morgenstern, I did not expect to see you in my office twice today," Mrs. Chen said.

I crossed my arms angrily and groaned in my seat. "How come I'm being sent home? I did nothing wrong. Shane Hutchinson started it."

Mrs. Chen gave me a sad look and said, "Shane will go to the principal's office after he's done with the nurse. I'm sure his parents are on their way, too."

"You called my dad? He can't know about this!" I yelled. "Can't I just leave? I drove myself here today."

"You're still a minor, Ari. He has to come sign you out. I know that some bad words were exchanged, but you can't just punch someone, even if they say something bad. Violence is never the solution."

"I realize that, but don't we have a zero tolerance policy for derogatory slurs? I shouldn't be in trouble," I said.

"Ari, you aren't suspended. We're just sending you home for the day. You can come back tomorrow, and you can still play in the soccer game on Friday."

During gym class, Shane Hutchinson and his friends came over to me and said they heard some things about my dad over the summer, and used some unsavory language referring to his sexuality. When he wouldn't stop, I clocked him in the face. Other than with Vic, I'd never gotten into a physical fight with anyone before, and I was surprised I landed the punch. Until a few kids could separate us, I barely had a few scratches, but he had a bloody nose. I didn't realize just how strong I was when I was angry. I didn't like hearing them say such mean things about Dad. 

"Mrs. Chen... Can we not tell my dad why I was fighting? I think it will really upset him, and I'd rather not do that... He's finally happy, for the first time since my mom died, and I don't want to hurt him."

"That is sweet of you, Ari, but perhaps you should have thought of that before you possibly broke Shane's nose." She scratched her head, and said, "We don't have to tell him what Mr. Hutchinson said. But he still has to know you got into a fight."

I leaned back in the chair and said, "He'll probably be a while. He's in his lecture right now."

"Then we'll wait for him," she said. "Since you're already in my office, do you want to talk more about your college applications?" This morning, during first period, she pulled me in to talk about applications, to make sure I had everything together for my Early Decision application to Columbia.

"Not really, but you're going to make me aren't you," I said.

"You know me well, Mr. Morgenstern. You've already written an excellent personal statement, and you've beefed up your resume nicely. Where else are thinking about applying besides Columbia?"

"My dad is making me apply to Harvard because he went there and it's a few miles from home. And it's Harvard. I think I want to stay on the east coast for school, which eliminates a few schools I was thinking about, like Stanford and Wash U and Emory. Otherwise, for reaches, I've done the applications for Princeton, Yale, Brown, Penn, Swarthmore, for schools I'll probably get into, Brandeis and Lehigh, and for safeties, NYU, BU and UMass. And Tufts, where my dad teaches. But this is all moot if I get into Columbia early decision."

Mrs. Chen began taking notes and nodded her head. "And you've already done the applications, you said?"

"Yeah, I've filled everything out and written every essay and put together each application. My dad made me work on it this summer."

"That was smart. We'll hold off on sending them until after the Columbia admissions decision, but we'll have them ready to submit on December second just in case. Have you already requested letters of recommendation?"

"Yes, I've asked for three from teachers and one from my soccer coach. And Professor Perlman wrote one for me for the work we did this summer." During our first meeting today, she had asked how the summer had gone and I told her about the work I did with Pro.

Mrs. Chen's phone rang and she spoke in hushed tones. I used the lull in the forced conversation to grab the ice pack I was supposed to be holding on the back of my head, where Shane had punched me. I didn't think I was going to have a concussion or a bump, but it was starting to hurt again.

"Your father is here," Mrs. Chen said. My stomach sank and my heart rate sped up. Dad was going to kill me.

The door to the guidance counselor's office opened, and my dad stormed in.

"Ari, are you okay?" he asked immediately, noticing the ice pack.

"I'm fine, Dad. Can you just sign me out so I can drive myself home?"

Dad grabbed the ice pack and examined my head, which was fine. It was only going to be a small bruise, and my hair covered it anyway. As long as I avoided walking into door frames and heading the ball in soccer, I'd be fine. "Are you sure you can drive?"

"YES!" I shouted, immediately lowering my voice when I remembered we were at school. "It barely hurts. Can we just go?"

Dad took the seat next to me, much to my chagrin, and asked Mrs. Chen what happened.

"Another boy was taunting him and saying some not particularly nice things, and they engaged in a bit of rough housing after," she said, thankfully skimping on the details.

"And is this other boy also being sent home from school today?" he asked.

She nodded and said, "Yes, the principal is with his parents now. Ari is only being sent home for the day. The other student will receive a week's suspension."

That seemed to have convinced Dad that this wasn't my fault and I was the victim here. "Mrs. Chen, may I speak with my son alone for a few moments before I take him to the office to sign him out?" he asked.

Once Mrs. Chen left the room and closed the door, Dad started yelling. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING? GETTING INTO A FISTFIGHT AT SCHOOL? RIGHT BEFORE YOUR COLLEGE APPLICATIONS ARE BEING SENT OUT? On the second day of your senior year? This was incredibly irresponsible and stupid, Ari."

"Shane started it. You know he's always been a bully, since we were kids. I was only defending myself."

"They told me on the phone that you threw the first punch. What could he have possibly said that made you punch him? You've never gotten into a fight before! My God, Ari... I am so disappointed in you," Dad said, in his tone that was meant to make me feel guilty. He said he learned that from his mother and bubbe.

I shook my head. "I don't need to tell you that."

"Ari... This is going to go on your permanent record, and this could affect your chances of getting into college. What was so important that you couldn't just ignore what he said? He's a bully, you've always been able to ignore him in the past. You have to grow up and start acting your age. You're nearly an adult. Do you know that if you were 18, you could have actually gone to jail if he pressed charges for assault and battery? Even if it was provoked?"

"Dad... Just let it go... This won't happen again, I swear," I said, feeling my eyes well up with tears.

"This had better not happen again, have I made myself clear? You are grounded for a month. You can only use the car to get to school, to drop your brother off and pick him up, and to go to soccer. Do you understand?"

"DA-AD! This is so unfair!" I said. "I just got a car and you're basically taking it away from me?"

"There are consequences to your actions, Ari. Don't fight with your classmates."

"I didn't mean to punch him... He was just saying some really horrible things about people I love and I couldn't stop myself... That's why he's getting suspended and this isn't even going on my record."

"What kind of horrible things?" Dad asked.

"Of the... Homophobic variety..." I said, looking down at my feet. Shit... I didn't mean to tell him... Fuck. I was just so angry about the unfair punishment.

Dad frowned, realizing what had happened. "Ohhh..." he said. "People are always going to say painful or mean things. You have to just learn how to ignore it. Violence doesn't solve anything, it only creates more problems."

"I know that, Dad... I didn't think..."

Dad stood up and gave me a hug when I got out of my chair. "Let's get out of here," he said, taking me to the office, signing a form to take me out of school, and walked me to the parking lot.

"Can you still pick your brother up when he gets out of school? I'm going to need to extend my office hours this afternoon because I had to leave to come here."

"I can get Vic, don't worry."

* * *

I had a few hours to kill before I had to pick Vic up, so I decided to spend my free afternoon watching television. While I sat on the couch eating some snacks, I texted Jasmine about my day.

_**hey, how's your day going?** _

**not too bad, I'm at the library working on the outline for a paper. What about you? Shouldn't you be in class!?**

_**I'm unexpectedly home for the afternoon.** _

_**this asshole in my gym class said something really nasty about my dad, so before I thought about what I was doing, punched him in the face.** _

**ARI! You can't do that! Even if he said something truly horrible.**

_**You sound like my dad. I was trying to hide the reason I got into a fight from him but he wanted to take away my car for a month and it slipped out.** _

**Are you suspended?**

_**No, they just made me go home for the day. Shane was suspended because we have a zero tolerance policy for derogatory language.** _

_**I might have broken his nose...** _

_**my dad had to pick me up from school** _

**Are you okay? Did he hurt you?**

_**I'm fine. It was so stupid, I shouldn't have done that, but I couldn't stop myself.** _

**you knew some people would be like this, when you started trying to set your dad up with Elio**

_**I know, and I'm glad he's happy with Elio. I like him. I just didn't expect to react so violently. I'm not usually like that, not even with Vic.** _

**Maybe you should go back to the therapist you said you saw after your mom died? They can teach some ways to relax? Anger management type thing?**

_**she specialized in grief counseling, but maybe you're right, maybe I never really fully processed everything.** _

_**I'll think about it. Not sure how to ask my dad about it.** _

**we can talk about that later. I need to get back to work now, but let me know if I can help with anything.**

_**will do. I love you, talk to you later.** _

**I love you too**

* * *

Unsurprisingly, my classmates were all spreading rumors about me in school, but I was shocked that it was in mostly a positive light. Shane had bullied many of my classmates for years, but no one had ever had the balls to actually hurt him. I was being hailed a hero. People actually clapped for me in AP English when I got back to school on Thursday. A few people told me they heard what Shane had said to me, and that it was cool that my dad was dating a guy. I tried to stress that Elio's gender didn't matter at long as my father was happy.

During band class on Thursday, they announced that the drama department had chosen the fall musical: _Grease_. It felt like being punched in the gut. _Grease_  was mom's favorite movie and her favorite musical, and she would have loved to see me in it. I was the male lead in _Anything Goes_  last year, and my band teacher asked if I'd be auditioning for Danny or Kenickie. I told him I'd have to think about it, that my plate was already pretty full. I just wasn't sure if I could be in _Grease_ without getting too upset about it. I talked to Dad and Vic about it when I got home that night, and they both thought it might be cathartic to be in the show. Jasmine said the same thing during our nightly phone call. Guess I was auditioning. I wondered how we were going to censor the pregnancy and sex storylines...

* * *

Our first soccer game of the year, against Newton, was on Friday. Even though it was raining and a bit chilly, Dad and Vic came to the game to cheer for me. They were maybe 2 of 5 people who came to watch the game in this weather, but I appreciated it.

In the locker room after the game, Tyler Donnelly and Caleb Warner were talking about the girls they hooked up with this summer.

"What about you, Morgenstern? You got lucky this summer, didn't you?"

I smiled but didn't say anything. "Oooh! Ari got laid!" Tyler said!

"Shush! My relationship with Jasmine is private," I said.

"Ari's in loooooove," someone else shouted.

Tyler snickered. "Oh, with that fat girl in your Facebook profile picture? Must have been real hard to get in her pants."

I took a deep breath. Did not want to get into another fistfight. "Jasmine is not fat, she's beautiful. She's the best thing that's ever happened to me. She's in college, she’s much smarter and way more interesting than you jerks, so just leave me alone," I said, changing into my sneakers.

* * *

My sex life was apparently a popular topic of discussion. On Monday, after soccer practice, I drove with my buddy Zack Weiss to the junior high. He usually borrowed one of his parents’ cars, but one was in the shop, so I was going to drive him and his sister, April, home from school, until Rosh Hashanah later this week. I was still grounded, but Mr. Weiss called Dad and asked if I could do them the favor.

“You’re so lucky that you had sex this summer,” Zack said, as we were parked outside of the junior high, waiting for our siblings to leave their band rehearsal. “I thought I was finally going to, with Briana, another counselor at camp, but it never happened.”

“What makes you so sure I had sex?” I asked. I was trying to be respectful of Jasmine, and Dad said I shouldn’t talk about specific things I had done because it could embarrass her, but at the same time, I did want to talk about it. Zack was one of my closest friends.

“I dunno, man. You just… you seem more mature. You hold yourself differently. You’re dating a girl in college. It’s the first time you’ve ever actually called someone your girlfriend. Should I continue?”

I shook my head and lowered the radio. “Nah… you’re right. We’ve slept together. Jasmine is so great…”

“I’m happy for you! What’s it like? Going all the way?”

“I mean… I’ve only done it with one person, but when it’s with someone you love, it’s really intimate and special. And really, really fun.”

Before we could continue the conversation, Vic and April reached the car and piled into the backseat, Vic carrying his clarinet case and April with her flute.

We stopped for ice cream on the way to the Weiss house, and ate in the car as we drove. “Ari, you are SO lucky that you have your own car now,” Vic said, licking his cone. “It was really nice of Elio and the Perlmans to just give you a car.”

“Your dad’s boyfriend gave you this car? That’s wicked cool,” Zack said.

“It is,” I said, smiling. “The Perlmans are actually really awesome. Though I think they like Vic more than they like me. If he was old enough to drive, the car would probably be his.”

“What can I say,” Vic said, smirking. “Adults love me.”

When we got home, Dad made us help clean the house, because Elio was going to be arriving tomorrow for Rosh Hashanah, and on Wednesday, Aunts Doris and Agnes were coming over for dinner, and they would probably not stop talking about how dirty the house was if they saw even a speck of dust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I probably won't be able to post another chapter until the weekend/next week, but I promise the next one will be long and will be super fun!
> 
> Here's the return of Ari's voice. He's still immature, but he's slowly learning and growing up... or at least, has Oliver and Jasmine to push him to do that.
> 
> I felt uncomfortable writing out derogatory slurs, so use your imagination about what words were exchanged. Kids are cruel, so keep that in mind.


	6. L'Shanah Tovah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long, so hang in there.
> 
> As a note, one of Deb's aunts uses a derogatory Yiddish word - I do not condone the use of this word, and I felt uncomfortable writing it, but I figured most of you don't know Yiddish and couldn't just extrapolate from context what was being said, like with Ari's fight in the previous chapter. I'm not 100% sure I spelled it correctly, as I felt weird googling it, but I spelled the word phonetically. She's old, which does not give her permission to speak like that, but, I was trying to accurately portray the conversation as it might actually have happened. Also, they yell at her for saying it. I apologize if reading words like that is triggering, but I put the warning up here just in case.

_**POV: Elio** _

_**Tuesday, September 11, 2007**  - **Wednesday, September 12, 2007**_  
  
My second drive to Massachusetts took an extra two hours – I rescheduled my afternoon office hours to next week, and hit the road after my early afternoon lecture. Oliver had already prepared a meal for me, thankfully, and I quickly devoured my supper within minutes of arriving. I joined the boys in the living room – Vic had suggested we all watch a movie together. Ari and Vic looked over their DVD collection and settled on _Wet Hot American Summer_ , a cult movie Ari swore by, but I had never seen. I fell asleep on Oliver’s shoulder within the first ten minutes.

The next thing I knew, I began to stir, and saw the end credits were playing. “How was the movie?” I asked. “Did I sleep through the whole thing?”

Oliver chuckled and held me close. “It was funnier than I was expecting, but you apparently found it boring.”

“Sorry,” I said. “The drive up took a lot out of me today.”

“It’s okay – we’ll rewatch it with you another time. This is probably the fourth or fifth time Ari and I have watched it, anyway,” Vic offered.

One thing I noticed during my first trip here, and now even during the few hours I’d been here today, was how much time Ari and Vic spent together, which was more than I would have expected. It was difficult to judge by this past summer, given Ari’s relationship with Jasmine. Vic always clung onto every word his brother said, but Ari willingly watched television or played games with his younger brother. Even if Ari was sometimes mean to him, or taunted him, he loved his brother, which spoke volumes to how Oliver and Deb had raised the boys. Maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised - they did work together to scheme to bring Oliver and me back together, for which I was eternally grateful.

I thought that Oliver seemed disappointed when I fell asleep pretty immediately when we got upstairs, but he didn’t tell me. He held me as I slept, and I never get a better night’s sleep than when I’m safely tucked into Oliver’s arms. Sometimes, I wished that I could be the one holding him as we sleep, but such is the reality of choosing a partner half a foot taller than I am. The loss of opportunity to be the big spoon was worth everything else that being with Oliver entailed.

When Oliver’s alarm went off at an ungodly hour, he began nuzzling my neck to wake me up. “Let me sleep, the sun is barely out,” I said.

“But I have to go for a run before work,” Oliver said.

I groaned. “Right, work, you have a lecture this morning,” I said.

“Are you coming for a run with me or no?” Oliver said, kissing my bare shoulder.

“Fine, but you’re going to continue this after the run,” I said.

He smirked and jumped out of bed, changing into his running gear. He was almost 45 years old, still ran every day, and still looked incredible. I sat up, stretched, and begrudgingly looked for the running clothes that I packed.

When we returned from our run, Oliver poked his head into the boys’ rooms to make sure they were awake and getting ready for school. The only thing that made getting up early on a day I wasn’t working worth it was the hanky panky with Oliver in the shower, which was satisfying, if a bit rushed for my liking. But alas, Oliver had to get to the university.

We sat at the table for breakfast, where Oliver made scrambled eggs for everyone. It felt strange being here for their normal routine, but I realized that soon, I would be a regular part of the routine.

Ari and Vic said goodbye to us, and Oliver and I split sections of the newspaper while we sipped coffee. “Giving Ari your old car was the best gift you could have ever given me,” Oliver said.

“How so?” I asked, flipping to the international news section.

“I now get an extra hour or so to relax in the morning, since Ari has been taking Vic to and from school. It’s only been a week, but I can definitely get used to this.” He slowly drank more coffee and then said, “I only have one lecture this morning, so I’ll be home around 11:30. Then we’ll head to the supermarket to get the odds and ends that we need for dinner tonight, and we’ll spend the afternoon cooking before we go to synagogue?”

“Sounds good. You sure you don’t want me to go while you’re at school?” I offered.

“No, Doris and Agnes are very particular about everything, down to the brand of products we buy. I’ll go with you when I get home,” Oliver said.

Before he left, Oliver set me up in the office, at his desk. “I… I thought it might be weird for you to use Deb’s old desk. We should get you a new one, so you can set up half of the office for yourself.”

“That’s okay, you don’t need to get rid of every trace of Deb… I don’t think I’d feel weird, using that desk,” I said. “I just need to reply to some emails and do a bit of work.”

I wasn’t sure if I felt uncomfortable using Deb’s old desk. Sometimes I felt like I was replacing her, in this house, in their lives, but I spoke with my parents about it over the weekend, and my mother reminded me that Oliver and his sons had a full life with Deb, and that she would always live on in their hearts and memories. I wasn’t replacing anything or anyone. They would always love Deb, but they would all have room in their hearts, and their house, for me. Still, I felt uncomfortable occupying the physical space she used to use, but also felt guilty having Oliver replace furniture or items for me. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get over that feeling of guilt.

* * *

Oliver and I went to the supermarket to pick up groceries for the Rosh Hashanah dinner we’d be cooking tonight. He’d already pre-made the brisket several days ago, and it was sitting in the fridge, marinating in its juices. We needed to get a chicken to roast, in case one of Deb’s Aunts complained about beef (Oliver could never keep track of their ever-changing dietary requirements), vegetables to cook, soup greens, and ingredients for sweet noodle kugel, chopped liver, matzah balls, and honey cake.

I enjoyed shopping with Oliver. He was so methodical about his grocery shopping, as he was about most things in his life - he made a list, organized by aisle, and we attacked the list in order. I didn’t question his method, as it made this trip quick and easy. In the tiny Jewish food aisle, as we looked for the specific matzah meal Oliver wanted, I said that I never made lists and just winged it at the store.

"That sounds about right," Oliver said, smiling at me. We wandered the aisles, never veering from his list. There was something romantic about shopping together, his hand on top of mine as we pushed the cart through the store. The fact that there was nothing special about being together in a suburban supermarket made it feel special, because we were doing this together.

While we were in the produce section, picking vegetables to roast, an onion for the chopped liver, and soup greens, a short brunette about his age wheeled her own half-full cart over to us. “Hi Oliver!” she said, smiling widely.

“Oh, hi Trudy!” Oliver said, tying a bag filled with potatoes and handing it to me. “Trudy, this is my partner, Elio. Elio, this is Trudy Wasserstein, her daughter Abigail is in Vic’s grade, and they were in the same Hebrew School class.”

Trudy and I shook hands. “Nice to meet you.”

“Pleasure is all mine,” she said, grinning. “Are you two getting ready for Rosh Hashanah tonight?”

“I think Oliver’s already done most of the hard work,” I said.

She rubbed her stomach and said, “Oh, I bet everything you’re cooking will be great. Deb always said you were the best cook.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say BEST, but I do make a mean brisket,” he said.

I turned around for a moment to grab the onions we needed, and heard Trudy say to Oliver, “Elio’s handsome! He seems nice!”

Oliver wrapped an arm around me as I dropped the bag with onions into the cart. "He's great," he said, affectionately kissing the top of my head.

"You look good, Oliver. You seem happy," she said.

"So do you," he said.

I realized why she looked familiar. She had written a very nice comment on Oliver's Facebook wall after he was effectively forced to come out over the summer, after Vic accidentally posted a picture where we were kissing in the background. She had lost her husband to cancer around the same time Deb had died, and wrote about how it is difficult to move on after a spouse dies, but it's important to find someone you love who loves you back.

"It's still hard, sometimes. Random things will trigger me, and remind me of Dale, but we have to move on and try to find some modicum of happiness, right? Life moves on, and whatever other cliche everyone tells you."

We stood quietly for a moment, and then Oliver gave Trudy an awkward hug. They had both gone through a similar trauma, that as sympathetic as I wanted to be, would hopefully never quite understand myself.

"Will you be at services tonight?" Oliver asked.

"We'll be there! Almost forgot to pay our membership dues now that Abigail's done with Hebrew school, so our seats are all the way in the back this year."

I had no idea what they were talking about. I never went to temple and only really celebrated holidays for the sake of tradition. I sometimes felt Jewish in name only. Part of it was because I was raised in Italy, and my mother's whole "Jews of discretion" thing. I still wore my star of David necklace, but that was the extent for me.

"We'll see you tonight, then," Oliver said.

* * *

Oliver immediately put me to work once we got home, as we had a lot of work to do and not that much time to do it.

I had emailed my mother and gotten Mafalda's chicken soup recipe, so Oliver let me make the broth. While the soup was simmering, I measured and mixed the dry ingredients for the honey cake and prepped the vegetables we'd be roasting later tonight.

We worked well together in the kitchen, even under the added stress of limited time and trying to impress his family. I had thought that this would be a test of how we worked as a couple, and I think we passed with flying colors. When Ari and Vic got home from school, Oliver enlisted their help, and the four of us worked in tandem to prepare most of tonight's dinner.

Oliver asked Vic to set the table in the dining room before we all changed into our suits and headed to the synagogue. I hadn't been to High Holy Days services in years, and I had forgotten just how crowded the services were. Oliver reminded me to bring my grandfather's tallis (the Jewish prayer shawl) from home so I didn't have to borrow one from the temple - my father knew I'd never go to synagogue in the states, but made me take it here when I moved, anyway. He said I'd never know when I'd need it.

When the four of us entered the sanctuary, I noticed people whispering and staring. Gossip travels quickly. Oliver noticed, too, and clasped into my hand, feeding the gossip, letting everyone in his congregation know that we were there together, and he didn't care what they thought. I held his hand tightly, offering my nonverbal support.

Even though the service was less than an hour long, I was bored, and I noticed Ari's eyes flutter closed a few times. Vic was following along, and Oliver seemed to know exactly what was happening - when to stand, when to bow, when to say something in Hebrew in response to the rabbi and the cantor. I was hopelessly lost, but it didn't bother me all that much.

After the service, Oliver introduced me to a few people, but he apologized to them that we had to leave because we had to get to the family dinner. He was talented at ending uncomfortable conversations and leaving the room quickly (usually with his glib, "later!").

* * *

We didn't have much time before the boys' Great Aunts arrived, so we put the chicken and vegetables into the oven to cook, and threw brisket and the kugel into the oven to reheat. I also heated my soup on the stove with the matzah balls Oliver made earlier.

The doorbell rang while we were in the kitchen, so Vic ran to answer the door. "I'll get it!" he shouted, running downstairs from his room.

"Aunt Doris, Aunt Agnes, hi!" he said, and I could hear the wet smack of each of them kissing his cheek.

"Where are your brother and your father?" one of them shouted. "And that Elio?"

"Dad and Elio are in the kitchen. Ari! Get downstairs now, they're here!" he screamed up the staircase.

"I'll be down in a minute, I'm on the phone with Jasmine," he said.

"Ari, tell her we all say hello, but that you need to join your family for dinner," Oliver yelled. It seemed the presence of their loud Aunts increased the entire family's volume by 200 percent.

I washed my hands took off my apron, and headed to the corridor where Doris and Agnes were standing.

"You're not going to introduce yourself?" one of them said. She seemed like the more forceful one, I think she was Doris.

"Hi, we met at Vic's Bar Mitzvah, I'm Elio. Elio Perlman," I added, unsure why. Perhaps to stress that I was Jewish? I extended my hand and shook each of theirs. Doris and Agnes were both short - Doris was shorter and more stout, and each had dyed blonde hair that was permed and sprayed with a thick layer of hairspray.

"I'm Doris, this is my sister, Agnes. Agnes, take your shoes off," she said, also removing her own shoes.

I took a Tupperware container from Agnes and escorted them inside. I had a bad feeling about this dinner, and I prayed it was going to go well.

Doris and Agnes each handed Vic a card for his birthday last week. When they got to the table, he opened the cards, and they had each given him a savings bond. "Oh... Thanks!" he said, examining the bonds.

"Don't go spending that all in one place," Ari said with a snicker. Oliver glanced over at him and silently told him to quit it and to stop being sarcastic. I was very quickly learning what Oliver's different expressions to his children meant.

Thankfully, before anyone could say anything else, Vic immediately began to chat to his Aunts about his schoolwork and the various musical projects he was working on, which kept them occupied for a bit while I helped Oliver bring out the soup course.

"I worked with Elio all summer - he taught me the basics of music theory and composition. I even wrote my own piece for piano!" Vic said.

"Can you play it for us later, before we go home?" Agnes asked.

"So you teach piano?" Doris asked.

I shook my head. "Not really, Vic was my first piano student. I teach music composition, theory and history at Princeton."

"Right," she said. "And you went to Princeton?"

"No, I went to Yale for both undergraduate and for my doctorate in music."

Agnes slurped her soup and said, "Music isn't a particularly lucrative field. Why did you choose it?"

I shrugged. "I sometimes feel like music chose me. My family had me take lessons as a kid, and I loved it immediately. When it came time to decide what to study in university, it was the only subject I felt I couldn't live without. I'm from a family of academics, and performing felt unrealistic and unstable, so I chose the scholastic route for music." That seemed to satisfy them.

Doris ate more soup and looked at Oliver. "The soup is delicious tonight! You've outdone yourself."

Oliver grinned, and squeezed my hand below his. "Actually, I made the matzah balls, but Elio made the soup itself."

"What did you put in this to give it extra flavor? Is it schmaltz? Parsnips?"

"I'm not sure which ingredient you mean, I've never made it before today. My parents sent me their house keeper's recipe,” I said.

Ari spoke with a mouth full of matzah ball and said, “Mafalda is the best cook ever. No wonder the soup is so good.”

“I can give you a copy of the recipe before you leave - even for a chicken stock, Mafalda has very specific instructions. I’ll translate them into English,” I offered to Doris and Agnes.

Oliver and I cleared the plates and started bringing out the side dishes and entrees. We brought out a bottle of kosher wine, and I poured wine for all of the adults. We’d already told Ari ahead of time that he was not allowed to drink tonight, not in front of Aunt Doris and Aunt Agnes.

Doris and Agnes alternated asking questions about myself, my family, and my life, some inoffensive, and some that I couldn’t believe they would ask, especially in front of Oliver’s children.

“So, Elio, have you always been a faygehlah, or is this new for you, too, like it is for Oliver?” Doris asked. Oliver looked at me with his jaw dropped, looking to find the right words. The boys just looked unsurprised.

Agnes smacked her in the shoulder. “Doris! We talked about this earlier! You can’t say that word! It’s not nice!”

“Nessie, he’s a man who sleeps with men. Does that not make him a faygehlah?” Doris said, putting her hands up in the air.

Oliver took the opportunity to chime in. “Agnes is right, that’s a term that’s used offensively, can you not use derogatory terms in front of my children, even if it is in Yiddish? Also, it’s not new for me...”

“It’s okay, Oliver. I’m not offended,” I said, trying to ease the tension.

Doris took a gulp of wine and said, “I didn’t mean it as an insult, I was just asking a question. I didn’t say there was anything wrong with him sleeping with men. I don’t necessarily understand it, but Rabbi Mendelson says that we as Jews should accept people for who they are, regardless of race, religion, or even sexuality. Boys, you saw that article I emailed you about gay marriage under Jewish law.”

Vic and Ari couldn’t control their giggles - they’d shown us the emails over the summer. Doris and Agnes were trying their hardest to accept Oliver and me as a couple, I could tell, but sometimes older people just don’t choose their words carefully enough and come across as offensive.

My sexuality shouldn’t matter, but if it helped them understand and accept us, I’d answer her question. “I’ve dated both men and women in the past, but no one held a candle to how wonderful Oliver is.”

“Oliver was good to Deb, and he’s a great father,” Agnes added. “After my Sharon moved across the country, Oliver and Deb always invited us over and checked in on us. Oliver has still been doing that, even after Deb passed, which we appreciate.”

Oliver’s cheeks turned rosy. “You’re Deb’s family, so you’re still my family.”

As we ate the noodle kugel and the brisket, Doris and Agnes interrogated me some more, and the boys told their Aunts more about their summer in Italy - the places we went, the work they did.

“... Professor Perlman is even going to include my name as a co-author on a paper he is writing with Jasmine!” Ari said, excitedly. “I think I’m going to major in classics in college.”

“Ari and Jasmine are in LOO-OOOVE,” Vic said, smirking.

“Jasmine is your girlfriend?” Doris asked. Ari nodded.

“Yes, she’s currently a sophomore at Barnard - she was Professor Perlman’s summer student. She’s only a year older than I am. She wants to be a classics professor one day, too.” Ari then told them about where he plans on applying to college, and what he hopes to do this school year.

Vic got up and went into the next room to grab his laptop between the meal and dessert, so he could show them a few pictures from the summer. “This is Ari with Noemie - she’s Marzia’s daughter. Marzia is Elio’s best friend.”

Agnes and Doris both cooed over the picture - Noemie was on Ari’s shoulders in the pool.

“And this is Ari and me with Jasmine,” he said. Doris and Agnes both looked over the picture, and I was bracing myself for some potentially racist or derogatory Yiddish terms.

“Ari, she’s beautiful,” Doris said. I breathed a sigh of relief. “She’s a lot shorter than you are,but no surprise there, any girl would be. You said she wants to win a Rhodes Scholarship?” Ari said yes, and beamed proudly. “I think you chose a winner. She’s probably a good influence on you.”

“Jasmine is great - she definitely encourages him to study harder and party less,” Oliver said. “She’s also really sweet to Vic.”

Oliver encouraged us to move into the living room before dessert, so Vic could play piano for everyone - he played the piece he composed over the summer. I sat next to Oliver, and he wrapped his arm around me as we listened to Vic playing. I loved being in his arms, and I could tell he was trying to tell himself he was allowed to be affectionate with me, around others, even Deb’s family. Also, whenever Vic played piano, especially something I helped him with, he got extra emotional, and liked being close to me, which I did not mind in the slightest.

After Vic played, Doris insisted that I take a go at the piano. I was glad that I only had one glass of wine, so I was still able to play coherently. This was actually my first time at Oliver's piano, so I wasn't that familiar with the pressure needed to apply to the pedals or how well - tuned the keys were, but I figured they wouldn't notice these nuances.

Vic and I switched seats, and I began to play a piece for them. I was determined to gain their approval, so I gave it my everything. I closed my eyes, and imagined I was playing only for Oliver.

I finished playing, turned around to everyone's applause, and rejoined Oliver on the couch.

"Wow, that was beautiful, Elio," Agnes said.

"Thank you," I said, resting my head on Oliver's shoulder.

We sat and chatted for some time, until we went back into the dining room for dessert, where Oliver and I served the honey cake we made earlier in the day.

"Elio, you don't have your own children, do you?" Doris asked.

I shook my head. "No, I never had kids."

"Are you prepared to help raise Ari and Vic?" she asked.

"I'm almost eighteen, I don't need anyone to  _raise_ me," Ari huffed.

Oliver laughed but bit his tongue. "Of course I am, I want to be here for them in whatever way I can, whatever they or Oliver need from me. I'm still learning, but I'm glad they've welcomed me with open arms," I said.

"But how are you going to do that, if you teach at Princeton?" Agnes asked.

"Elio is moving here in January. It was too late to change his schedule for the fall, but in the spring, he'll be a visiting professor at Harvard, and hopefully he'll get a full time position for next fall," Oliver offered.

Doris sipped her coffee. "Yale, Princeton, Harvard. I'm impressed. And you mentioned your family's housekeeper earlier - you come from money?"

For the second time tonight, Agnes smacked her sister in the arm. "Doris! We can't ask him how much money he has!"

"Why not? If he's going to potentially be their step father, we need to make sure Victor and Ariel will be taken care of."

I took a deep breath, readying myself to answer this properly. "I make a decent living on my own, and my income is supplemented by occasional performances and orchestras that play my work. But my family does have money, albeit, mostly in Euros. My parents love these boys just as much as I do, they chipped in to buy Vic a new computer and to give Ari a car."

"Which was your old car... But it's still really awesome! Thank you!" Ari said, quickly course correcting.

Vic and Ari each excused themselves to go do some homework because they'd be spending much of the day at synagogue tomorrow.

"Oliver, have you thought about how your relationship will affect your sons?" Doris asked.

"My boys are fine with it. They're the ones who encouraged the relationship."

Doris nodded. "Did they think about the consequences? Elio, you seem wonderful, but Oliver, a gay relationship will be difficult for the whole family. Are you sure you want to put the family through that, especially after what you all went through when Deborah died?"

Oliver held my hand, to show to Doris that we were bonded and that we wouldn't let homophobic discrimination affect us. "Things might be difficult for us, but we'll get through it together. Ari's already held his own against a bully, it might be hard now, but we'll come out of this stronger, as a tight knit family."

I looked at Oliver. What was he talking about, with Ari and a bully? He hadn't told me about this. We made eye contact, and he gave me a slight nod that I understood to mean, "I'll tell you later."

“Well, as long as you two are happy,” Agnes said. “You seem happy together.”

“We are,” Oliver and I said in unison.

“You two both know that I’m not trying to replace Deb, in Oliver’s life or in his sons’ lives, right?” They both nodded, and I continued. “I love Oliver, very much, and I promise I will always be here for him, for Ari and Vic, for the two of you if you will let me. I don’t plan on going anywhere, and I just wanted you to know how much I care about everyone in this family.”

“Good, that’s what I wanted to hear,” Doris said. “We had to give you a hard time, to make sure you were good enough for our boys. Take care of our Oliver, he deserves to be loved.”

Apparently I’d passed their test with flying colors. I didn’t think I was quite off the hook, but this response seemed to satisfy Oliver. I’d seemingly survived the evening with his most difficult family members.

We chatted for a little while longer, before they said they needed to head out. Agnes was still driving, but she complained that in another few years, she’d lose her night vision. The boys came downstairs to say good night.

“L’shanah tovah!” they both said, kissing us all good bye. “We’ll see you next month at Leah’s Bat Mitzvah?”

“We’ll all be there,” Oliver said.

Once Doris and Agnes left, Oliver pulled me into a long, deep kiss after the boys scurried back upstairs. “Thank you,” he said.

“What for?”

“For being wonderful tonight. For being you. For loving me. Do you know how amazing you are?” he said.

I started running up the stairs toward the bedroom. “I think you need to show me,” I said, racing Oliver to the bedroom for some alone time before going to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to post - I wanted to get the nuances of Deb's aunts just right. I know how I wanted them to seem, but they needed to come across as slightly homophobic/racist but also sort of well-meaning (basically, they're old Jewish grandmothers/great-aunts... it's hard to characterize specifically, but if you're Jewish, you know what I mean), and have different personalities from each other.
> 
> L'Shanah Tovah means happy new year in Hebrew. Rosh Hashanah is the Jewish new year. I can explain more about it if you're curious, but that's sort of all you need to know. Also, because you aren't supposed to touch or handle money during Jewish holidays or on Shabbat (the sabbath), instead of passing a collection plate each week like I'm told churches do, synagogues actually have a membership that you pay each year to go to services there. You can still attend if you don't pay, but paying is usually what gives you your assigned seat at the High Holy Days (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) services. That's what Oliver and Trudy are talking about. Also, because no one goes to regular services each week, but everyone goes to Rosh Hashanah, they have to assign seats (which entices you to pay for the year), and most temples have a second room next to the main sanctuary, whose doors they open to expand the sanctuary into a bigger room during the High Holy Days. If you've ever seen _Garden State_ , they make a joke about the Rosh Hashanah doors in that movie. Last, honey cake is a cake made for Rosh Hashanah - you make things with honey (like, dipping apples in honey), to celebrate and symbolize a sweet new year.


	7. Bubbe's Favorite

_**POV: Oliver** _

_**Thursday September 13, 2007 - Sunday, September 16, 2007** _

"Merde! C'est trop tôt le matin. Laissez-moi dormir," Elio said grumpily as my alarm went off.

"I'm pretty sure that whatever you said was mean, but you’re sexy when you speak French, so I'll let it slide. Do you usually think in French?" I asked.

He squinted his eyes at me, seemingly unready to have a conversation. "I don't know. Maybe? I mostly think in English now that I live here, but when I was a kid, it was a combination of French and Italian." He sat up and rubbed his eyes, then stretched his arms over his head. "When I wake up, it's mostly French, probably because that's the language my mother spoke to me in when I was a kid, and she was the one who had to drag me out of bed to go to school every morning. I've never really thought about it before. Too much thinking before coffee."

I sat on the edge of my side of the bed and put on my slippers. "I take it you were always this grumpy when you woke up, even as a kid?"

"What? I like to sleep." Elio yawned and said, "Are we going for a run?"

"No," I said, "It's Rosh Hashanah. We'll go again on Saturday."

Elio grinned, like a child who gets to stay home from school on a snow day. "Yes! Two days off! So why are we awake? Come back to bed with me."

"We need to get ready for synagogue, Elio.”

“I know that… but it’s still pretty early, and your cock could be in my mouth right now. Just a quick blow job, no reciprocity needed,” he said suggestively.

I took a deep breath, and decided we had time for a quickie before we left for temple. “You only offered that because you know I’m going to reciprocate.” I kicked my slippers off, pulled off my boxers, and hopped back into bed. “We do have to make this quick, though. Why don’t we do each other at the same time?”

We kissed sloppily and hungrily until we were both hard, and then he pushed me back, and got on top of me. I enjoyed pleasuring each other simultaneously, especially given our time restraints, but sometimes I just enjoyed spending my time focusing on Elio. Especially before I’d had my coffee today, and with Elio’s skillful oral technique, I felt I wasn’t giving him my full attention. Regardless, he kept gently bucking his hips and moaning while he sucked me, so I think he enjoyed my efforts. We both orgasmed at nearly the same time, and then he sidled next to me, resting his head on my shoulder. “Mmm, can we go back to bed now? And then do that again when we wake up after an acceptable number of hours of sleep?” he said with a contented yawn, hopefully jokingly.

“Elio… I'll go make some coffee and wake up the boys, then we'll shower and get ready to go."

"But we went to synagogue last night," Elio said grumpily.

"Didn't we already talk about this? We've got services for half of the day today and tomorrow," I said.

He rubbed his eyes once more, in an attempt to wake up. "I know. I was just hoping I could convince you to stay home and in bed with me, instead."

"Nice try. You don't have to come with me, but I'm taking the boys."

"No, I'll go with you. If this is your tradition I want to be a part of it."

I nodded and smiled at him. I gave him credit for trying. "Why don't you shower and try to wake up, and I'll make coffee and breakfast?"

"You're not going to shower with me?" he pouted.

I shook my head. "If I shower with you, we're certainly never leaving the bedroom today. I’m already behind schedule. Oh, stop making that face. I mean this as a compliment. You're hard to resist."

I woke the boys up, and they took their time getting ready. After Elio and I had both showered and gotten dressed, we sat in the kitchen, eating breakfast and drinking our very necessary coffee. "What happened with Ari at school, that you said you'd tell me about later?" Elio asked.

"Oh... He... He got into a fist fight with a bully. The other boy was antagonizing him, and I'm not exactly sure what was said, Ari and his guidance counselor were slim on the details. I'm pretty sure the boy used some slurs of the homophobic variety, directed at me."

Elio frowned when he realized what had transpired. "Oh... Oliver... I'm so sorry. I didn't really think about the effect this would have on your kids, not like this..." He put his head in his hands and said, "This is all my fault."

"How is this your fault, Elio? This is nobody's fault."

"But... This bully wouldn't have done this to Ari, if I hadn't pursued you... He got into a fight because of us... Your sons are going to be talking to their shrinks about this, about us, for the rest of their lives..."

I moved closer to Elio and put my hand on his back. "My sons are going to be okay. This boy would have said something else to Ari if not something about me. Kids are always cruel. I didn't tell you about this because I didn't want to worry you. That's why Ari is grounded, though - he threw the first punch. I don't want him getting into fights, and he's never done this before, but... this kid has always been asking for it."

Elio furrowed his brow and gave me a sad look. "So, you don't think that this was a mistake? You're not regretting our relationship? Do you think it will have a negative effect on Ari and Vic? We lived in such a happy bubble this summer, we didn't think that far ahead."

"Of course I don't regret this, Elio. I love you. Nothing will change that. My boys are my priority, but we discussed this over the summer, the possibility that things might not always be easy. I did think about the future. I told them if they had any qualms, to let me know, and their decision was final. They encouraged us."

That seemed to satisfy Elio. "I love you, too. I just wish you had told me about this when it happened and not in passing."

"I've been doing this alone for a year and a half, I'll need to get used to including you in decisions about my kids. You're an authority figure in their lives now, too."

* * *

Nearly an hour into the morning services (I checked the watch that Elio had given me last month, with Milou from _Tintin_ on the face), both Elio and Ari had fallen asleep. At least they tried. Vic nearly fell over in a fit of giggles when Elio and Ari were both jolted from their naps when the shofar was blown.

During the first long break, I drove us home for lunch, and decided Ari and Elio could stay home and nap some more (or in Ari's case, probably play video games) after we ate a quick lunch. Neither was particularly sad about missing the tashlich, which was Vic's favorite part of Rosh Hashanah.

Vic and I went back to synagogue without them. After the afternoon service, we followed the crowd on the walk to the nearest body of water with fish for the tashlich, a ritual where you throw small pieces of bread into the body of water to symbolize throwing away your sins of the last year. Vic mostly enjoyed this because it meant we got to unintentionally feed the ducks at the pond.

“Hey Dad, do you remember when I was a kid, how you and Mom used to take us here sometimes in nice weather? We’d have picnics, and Mom would take me to feed the birds while you kicked around a soccer ball with Ari,” Vic said, as he tore off a small piece of bread and threw it into the pond. “There was the one time you and Ari got covered in mud, and Mom made you both take your clothes off before you got into the car, and had you sit in your underwear on the drive home so you wouldn’t get the car dirty.”

“How could I forget that, Pup? At least your brother had a smelly soccer shirt we found in the trunk. I had to spend the ride home in just my boxer shorts.” Vic chuckled and threw another piece of bread, this one directly in the way of some birds who swam toward it. After we threw our bread, we took our time walking back to the synagogue to get the car and drive home for dinner. “How is the school year going so far? Do you like your teachers?”

He nodded. “My teachers are all nice. My classmates are all pretty much the same, just taller and meaner and more hormonal. I mostly just try to keep to myself.”

“Is anyone bullying you?” I asked. Vic had always had kids who picked on him, because he was a sweet and sensitive teacher’s pet who didn’t fight back, but I was concerned about his school life after Ari’s experience last week.

“No, not really. Actually, a few of the popular girls have started talking to me. I heard Megan F. tell Megan K. that I ‘got cuter’ over the summer.”

I playfully nudged him, and said, “That’s a good thing, right?”

“I think so. At least they’re not making fun of me.”

“Do you like either of them?” I asked.

He shrugged as he kicked a pebble on the street. “I mean, they’re both pretty, but honestly, not really. I think I only like smart girls, and girls who are nice to me, not girls who are nice now that I grew a little taller.”

“Good man,” I said. “Looks aren’t everything, you want to be with someone who can keep up with you, and who likes you for who you are.”

“I mean, I think there’s a girl I like… she just doesn’t go to my school,” he said.

I raised my eyebrow. “Oh? Is it Elena?” I asked, referring to Chiara’s niece, with whom he’d “hung out” with this past summer.

“No… I mean, yes, I still like her, but… it’s Sabrina,” he said.

"Oh, Sabrina's a nice girl! Howie would be thrilled that you have a crush on her."

Vic turned pink and turned his head away. "Da-aaad, I don't have a crush on her, I just like her... I never realized how pretty she was until we were hanging out on labor day. She's always been friendly to me at all-state and when we were kids. She's a really good musician, too. Not as good as me, but she's better than everyone else in my school."

"There aren't many kids your age who are better than you are at music."

Vic wasn't particularly full of himself, but he knew he was talented. "That's true. I also never realized how big her boobs had gotten..."

"Takes after her mother, and her father, in that regard..." I said absentmindedly, sometimes forgetting that Vic is only 14. I regretted it immediately.

He stuck his tongue out and said, "Eww, gross! I don't want to think about Jill that way. Or whether or not Howie has man boobs..."

I changed my tone and took the opportunity to give him a life lesson. "Vic, you shouldn't objectify someone because they are more developed than others. I realize I just did that, and I shouldn't have. I think you can acknowledge it, to me or your brother, but you should never let someone feel like they are less or more important because of something like having a chest. And maybe you shouldn’t make fun of someone’s weight like I did." I added. “Do as I say, not as I do, and all that jazz.”

“I know that, Dad. You don’t really have to tell me those things, you and Mom always made sure that we were respectful to everyone.” I wrapped my arm around his shoulder and pulled him in for a side hug. How did I get so lucky to have such a good kid? Two good kids - Ari’s bad moments were never all that bad. We arrived back at the synagogue, and we go into the car, Vic jumping into the passenger seat, and we started driving home.

“Otherwise, everything is okay? We’re all going through a lot of changes recently, and I just wanted to make sure that everything is good, and that you’re happy.”

Vic nodded and said, “I’m happy. Or, as happy as an unpopular music nerd can be in eighth grade. If you’re talking about Elio being around now, I like that he’s here. You two are happy together, and I like him. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I’m your dad, I’m always going to worry about you, over everything. No one’s given you a hard time about it? At school, or elsewhere?” I asked.

“Oh, you’re talking about the fight that got Ari suspended…” he intuited. Smart kid.

“You know that he wasn’t suspended. And yes, that’s kind of where I was going with this. You just spend a lot of your time squirreled away in your room, and I wanted you to know that I’m always here to talk. I always have time for you. If anything is ever bothering you, you can tell me.”

“No one’s really said anything mean to me, not about you and Elio, if that’s what you’re worried about. There are a few kids who have been calling _me_ gay since sixth grade, so nothing has changed there, but my classmates mostly haven’t said anything to me. Even if they did say something, I’d just ignore it, like I always do. Sometimes I just tell them that they can say that I’m gay, because it’s not an insult. I wouldn’t want you and Elio to break up just because someone I don’t like said something mean to me.”

Though Vic had always been precocious, it amazed me how mature he was for his age, and I could see him growing up before my eyes. “I love you, Pup.”

“I love you, too, Dad.”

* * *

When we got home, Elio was sitting at a table in the dining room, thumbing through an old photo album he took off of the bookshelf.

“Where’s Ari?” I asked.

“He’s in his room, I heard him playing video games when I was upstairs before,” Elio said.

I sat down next to him and asked, “What are you looking at?” He passed me the book, and it was an album from our family vacation to Florida when Ari was 8 and Vic was 4.

“The boys were so adorable here, this looks like it was a nice vacation.”

“It was. We were visiting my cousin Cynthia, who lives in Boca Raton. She and her brother, Artie, who’s a year older than I am, were my closest cousins growing up. He lives in San Diego now. My mom liked to tell me that I was always Bubbe’s favorite, though.”

Elio smiled and put his hand on mine. “Of course you were your Bubbe’s favorite. Any grandmother would love you to pieces.”

We flipped through the pages of the photo album, and Vic came and joined us. “I kind of remember this trip!” he said excitedly. “We went to Disney World for a few days, I was so excited to meet Goofy that when I got to see him, I got too nervous and couldn’t say anything.”

I found the picture of an excitedly nervous Vic and a too cool to be taking pictures with people in costume Ari, with Goofy. I showed Elio the other Disney pictures, as well as the family pictures from that trip. Deb was good at putting the photo albums together and putting labels and dates so we could keep track of when everything was taken.

“You all had such a life, had so many memories before I came into the picture. I’m just worried that I’m going to mess things up, make things worse for you,” Elio said, closing the photo album and getting up to put it back on the bookshelf.

“We did have a wonderful life. But our lives are wonderful with you in it, too,” I said.

“You are not making our lives worse, Elio,” Vic said. “I’m really happy that you and my dad are together.”

“Thanks… Sorry, I just get in my head sometimes. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries, but I really do want to be in your lives.”

I held his hand and smiled. “I love you. None of us want you to go anywhere.”

Before we could say anything further, a timer in the kitchen went off. “Dinner’s ready!” he said. “Don’t get too excited, it’s mostly leftovers from yesterday, but I put up some more vegetables.”

“I knew I’d get through to you to be healthier!” I said, smiling.

“AAAAAAARI!” Vic got up and shouted up the staircase. “DINNER’S READY!”

“BE DOWN IN A SECOND, I NEED TO GET TO A GOOD STOPPING POINT!” he shouted back. Teenagers and their video games.

* * *

I went to services with the boys on Friday, while Elio stayed home and did some work. He said he’d use the alone time to practice the piano and work on one of his compositions. I couldn’t wait to hear it.

Elio and I spent the rest of the weekend together, working together in the office, reading together on the couch, watching television with the boys. I'd decided to lift Ari's punishment - a week was long enough. On Saturday, we stopped at my office in the afternoon to pick up some papers and a book that I needed for tomorrow, and then we had a date night, at a quaint bistro in Medford. Ari was still out with his friends when we got back, and Vic was already asleep, so we split a bottle of wine on the couch. We put on a movie, but kissed and groped like teenagers through most of it. Like teenagers, we immediately separated and gave ourselves a few inches between us when we heard Ari pull into the driveway.

“Hey Ari,” we shouted from the living room when he walked into the door. “Did you have fun tonight?”

He walked into the living room and noticed the empty bottle of wine. “I did. Seems you two did, too.”

I noticed the faint aroma of marijuana clinging to his clothes. “Did you smoke tonight?” I asked, looking him in the eyes.

“No, Dad, but Caleb and a few others did. I know, I know, ‘you are not allowed to drive while impaired, or I’m taking the car away from you.’ You can spare the lecture. I didn’t get high tonight. I wouldn’t, not if I’m driving.”

“Good. I trust you. Have a good night.”

“Good night, Dad. Good night, Elio.”

Ari ran upstairs to his room, and slammed the door as he was wont to do.

I rested my head on Elio’s shoulder and curled my fingers around the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I love your kids,” he said, taking a sip of his wine.

“I do, too. I got lucky with those two.”

* * *

The next morning, predictably, Elio fought with me about getting out of bed to run. After we’d gone about a mile, he bent over and took a few labored breaths.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Yeah, just a bit hungover from yesterday. And I’m out of shape.”

“Have you not been running on your own? We have the Halloween 5K at Vic’s school next month! You promised me that you’d run with me!”

He shook his head. “I didn’t actually promise. You just said you were going to sign us up. I didn’t argue.”

“You need to run twice a week on your own. We need to stay active and healthy. My dad was only three years older than I am now when he had his first heart attack. I want to be around to meet my grandchildren.”

“Why do I have to run, though? I’m healthy!” he said facetiously.

“Because I plan on being with you for a very long time, but you’ll have to put in some work so we can make up for the time we lost.”

Elio wrapped his arm around my waist and reached up to kiss me. “I love you, Oliver. I want to spend the rest of our very long lives together. I’ll try harder, for you, for the boys, for us.”

“Sorry I’m being so morbid. Since my dad died, it’s always been in the back of my mind, and death has been a constant presence in my head since Deb died.”

“I know, I understand. Why don’t we run back home and I’ll try to take your mind off of it, for a few minutes at least?” he said, raising his eyebrow. We raced back to the house, and a few minutes turned into a few wonderful hours in bed (and against the dresser, and in the shower), which was a great way to spend our time before Elio had to drive back to New Jersey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think a lot of this story for the next few chapters is going to be like this chapter - small snippets from their weekends together (and apart), to build their world and their lives together. Happy, domestic fluff.
> 
> Sorry this took so long, hopefully it will be less time between chapters going forward! Life has been busy, but I haven't forgotten about this story. I have so many exciting things planned!


	8. No Me Siento Bien

_**POV: Vic** _

_**Monday, September 17, 2007 - Thursday, September 20, 2007** _

We were a few weeks into the school year and things were going well. My classes were all easy, and in band class, I was first chair clarinet. I sat down with Elio last week, and he suggested that this year, I practice all of my instruments, but I focus on piano and clarinet, since those were the two that I was best at. He thought that this would help strengthen my applications to summer programs and after school programs that I’d do in high school. He said I could be great at a lot of things, or be the best at a few things, and I think he was right. I’ll still occasionally play saxophone or flute or oboe if I need to in school band, but for my after school orchestra and all-state band, I’ll play clarinet.

I thought that Dad was worried that things were difficult for me in school, with other kids. I’ve never really had that many friends, and that’s been fine. Everyone’s treated me differently since Mom died, people have been falsely nice. A few kids’ parents have forced them to invite me to birthday parties or sleepovers, and I’ve gone because Dad would be mad if I didn’t go, but I know when I’m getting a sympathy invite. I’m not stupid.

Ari picked me and April up from school on Monday with Zack, and they both looked ecstatic. “Everything okay?” I asked. “You’re not high, are you?”

“Why do you and Dad keep asking me that? I don’t smoke that much, and I wouldn’t drive while I was high!” Ari said. “The cast list went up for _Grease_  today. I was cast as Danny, and after I made him try out, Zack got Kenickie.”

“The last time I sang in front of people was at my Bar Mitzvah, and now I have to lead the most popular song in the show, so this is going to be uncomfortable for everyone,” Zack said.

Ari stopped at a red light and lowered the radio. “It’ll be good on your college apps, though.”

I scratched my head, trying to remember which song Kenickie is the lead on. “Does Kenickie even have a solo?” I asked.

“Yeah, in the play, he leads _Greased Lightning_ , they changed it in the movie. Makes more sense, Greased Lightning is Kenickie’s car,” Ari said, pulling out of his spot and driving to drop off the Weisses.

“Well, Ari, I’m surprised you didn’t get cast as Eugene the dork,” I said jokingly. “Maybe they thought that would be typecasting.”

“You’re lucky you’re in the backseat right now or I’d punch you,” he said. I’m not sure if he was kidding or not.

After we dropped them off and I moved to the front seat, I said, “Mom would have been really excited to see you in _Grease_  . I think she’d be really proud.”

“Yeah, I think so, too,” Ari said sadly.

We called Dad on speakerphone and Ari told him about getting cast. He seemed a bit disconcerted, since we don’t usually call during the day so he assumed something was wrong, so he was both relieved and happy when we told him that Ari got the lead in his musical.

* * *

I texted Jasmine when I got home, as I hadn't talked to her in a while. We got pretty close over the summer, and hopefully it wasn't weird that I was friends with my brother's girlfriend.

_**Hey Jasmine! How’s it going?** _

**Hi! Going well. I’m at my work-study job right now, but things are quiet so I’m doing homework.**

_**Did Ari tell you about Grease?** _

**He did, the second the cast list went up.**

_**You should come visit and see the show! Stay with us for the weekend!** _

**I’d love to, but I don’t know if I can afford the train or bus to come up.**

_**I can ask my Dad to buy your bus ticket, and tell him to put my allowance toward it.** _

**Vic, that’s really sweet, but I can’t ask you to do that. I’ll come visit at some point.**

_**Okay :(** _

_**Can I ask for your advice?** _

**Of course! What’s up?**

_**How can I figure out if a girl likes me?** _

_**I’d normally ask Ari but I don’t want him to make fun of me** _

**Do you like her?**

_**I think I do.** _

_**But if I do something and she doesn’t like me, it could be awkward.** _

_**she’s my dad’s friend’s daughter, and she is in all-state band with me** _

**That’s a tough one.**

**Can you see if she wants to hang out as friends, and gauge it from there?**

_**I mean, she probably doesn’t like me. Most people here don’t.** _

**That can’t possibly be true.**

_**No, it is. I don’t really have friends.** _

**I didn’t have too many friends in junior high or high school, either, but it gets better**

**I promise**

**Remember how everyone loved you in Italy?**

_**That’s just because I was the young one in a group of older kids. They thought I was cute. They didn’t like me.** _

**Don’t be so hard on yourself. Trust me, everyone adored you.**

_**Thanks** _

_**What do you think I should do about Sabrina?** _

_**I told my dad I kind of liked her, and he said her dad would love it** _

_**I just don’t want to make things weird** _

**How well do you know her?**

_**Pretty well, I’ve known her since I was little. Her mom was my mom’s best friend. And our dads are good friends.** _

_**She likes playing music, like I do** _

_**And she figure skates** _

**Why don’t you invite her over to play Guitar Hero or something? I know you love that game.**

_**She might like that, yeah.** _

**You can invite a few other kids from your band, too, if you wanted it to be a casual thing.**

_**That’s a good idea.** _

**That way, you can make a few new friends, and also hang out with her in the process, and try to feel things out.**

**If not, she’s still your friend, and you did nothing uncomfortable**

_**You always have good advice. Thank you.** _

**Any time, Vic.**

* * *

I was thrilled on Tuesday when we didn’t have to change for gym class. Instead, they had us sit in the gymnasium and gave us a lecture about getting ready for high school, especially if we’re applying for specialized programs or private schools. A few of my classmates were talking about going to Catholic school or boarding school, and I always just assumed that I’d go to the school Ari goes to, but my guidance counselor, Ms. Landry, pulled me aside before my next class and asked if I was going to apply to Boston School of the Arts. I told her that I’d thought about BSA in the past, but I’d hopefully be in the honors and AP track at Brookline. My parents had always stressed the importance of public school, and a private high school was never really something my family had talked about.

Ms. Landry gave me a brochure for the school, and encouraged me to talk to my father about it - auditions were next month, so I’d have to act quick, but they did have academic and merit scholarships, if cost was the major consideration.

Did I want to go to a performing arts high school? I’d always been the best musician in my class, and even in all-state, I was one of the best, but would it be intimidating to always be around musicians, all the time? Was this what I wanted to do with my life? Mom always said that I should focus on academics, and work on my music after school, so I could keep my options open. Would I be limiting myself if I went to a school like this?

Then again, music is my life. I want to be a musician when I’m older. Would I be giving up a good opportunity by being afraid of a challenge? Why do teenagers have to make such important life decisions at such a young age?

Later that evening, I went into Dad’s office to talk to him about the BSA. He was video chatting with Elio.

“So you’ll be here this weekend, and next weekend, Doris and Agnes will watch Vic and I’ll drive down to you after I drop Ari off in the city,” Dad said.

“Am I interrupting?” I asked.

“You’re never interrupting,” Dad said, which I knew was a lie. He wanted alone time to talk to Elio. Dad seemed so much happier and relaxed on the days that Elio was here, and sad when he wasn’t.

“Hi Elio!” I said, leaning over to get into the frame. “I’ll come back later.”

Elio waved back. “Hi, Vic! It’s okay, I was just about to get back to work, anyway. I’ll see you on Friday!”

“I’ll talk to you later. I love you,” Dad said.

“I love you, too,” Elio said, blowing Dad a kiss. It was very European of him.

Dad closed the chat window and spun his chair around to talk to me. “What’s up?” he asked.

I handed him the flier I’d been given earlier. “During our high school prep lesson today, Ms. Landry said that she thinks I should audition for Boston School of the Arts. I know you and Mom always wanted us to go to public school, but I’ve been looking into BSA, and they are rated just as high for academics, and have just as many AP classes as Brookline.”

Dad put his reading glasses on and opened the pamphlet. “When are the auditions?” he asked.

“Next month. I know private school is expensive, and if we can’t afford it, I understand.”

“I’ll need to do more research on the school, I know some things, but nothing too specific. Would you apply for woodwind performance or for piano?” he asked. “It says you need to specialize in one.”

“I wanted to talk to Elio about that, but probably piano,” I said.

Dad nodded. He went to the school’s website and began clicking around. “They have a great Ivy League acceptance record, possibly better than Ari’s school… Vic, the school is REALLY expensive. It costs $25,000 a year.”

“I know, but Ms. Landry thought I’d be an ideal candidate for an academic scholarship,” I said. Dad didn’t seem too keen on BSA, so over the course of a few hours, I’d gotten my hopes up for nothing.

“Let’s schedule an audition for you, and see if you get in. We can figure things out from there. If you get in, you don’t have to go, but if you don’t audition, we’ll never know,” Dad said. “We’ll see what Elio thinks about piano and woodwind over the weekend. But I still want you to take the exam for the honors program at Brookline, to keep your options open.”

I walked closer to Dad and gave him a tight hug. “Thank you! I thought you were going to protest much more than this.”

“I didn’t say you could go. You need to get in first,” he said.

I sat down at Mom’s old desk and turned my chair to face Dad. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something else school-related.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Dad, I already told you that everything is fine. I’ve been thinking a lot about this, and I think I want to take Italian. I was looking into it, and I can sit in with the sixth grade introduction to Italian class if I skip my lunch period.”

“You’re not going to drop Spanish, are you? Spanish is an important language to know.”

I groaned. “I know, Dad, that’s why I said I’d take Italian during lunch.”

Dad took his glasses off and put them back on the table. “You shouldn’t skip your lunch period, Vic.”

“I know, but I usually just spend my lunch in the band room anyway, avoiding the cafeteria. But I think Italian would actually be really useful. If we’re going to be spending some of our summers in Italy, it would be good to be able to speak it, and did you know that you need to be fluent in Italian or French, or be able to read Latin, to get a doctorate in music at most colleges?”

He scratched his head and said, “I did not know that. Do you really want to take Italian with sixth graders, though?”

“What about getting _Rosetta Stone_? I really want to learn the language, especially after this past summer. There were so many times that I just sat quietly while everyone spoke Italian around me, and I wished I could understand them. Just, don’t tell Elio about this, I want to surprise him by being able to speak to him in Italian.”

Dad grinned at me. “That’s a really sweet idea, Vic. I won’t tell him. I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

I sent Sabrina a Facebook message before bed, partially just to talk and see if she’d respond, but I was curious if she was applying to BSA.

**Victor Morgenstern:** Hey Sabrina! How are you doing? I was wondering if you’re auditioning for BSA next year? I hadn’t really thought about it before, because my parents have always pushed public school, but my guidance counselor is encouraging me to apply.

She replied almost instantly, which was exciting.

**Sabrina Levinson:** Hi Vic! Yeah, I’m auditioning! My mom seems to think that I stand a good shot of getting in, since there aren’t too many female trumpet players.

**Victor Morgenstern:** I think you’d get in, even if the auditions were blind. You’re the best trumpet player in all-state.

**Sabrina Levinson:** That’s not true. Vijay Desai is so much better than I am.

**Victor Morgenstern:** He just always plays louder than everyone else, which everyone mistakes for talent. You’re really good.

**Sabrina Levinson:** That’s really sweet, thank you. Are you going for clarinet, or are you going for piano?

**Victor Morgenstern:** I wanted to talk to Elio about that, see what he thinks, as a music professor, but probably piano. Though, they probably have more spots for woodwind players.

**Sabrina Levinson:** Don’t sell yourself short. If you want to compose or play piano professionally, you should go for piano.

**Victor Morgenstern:** I have to figure out what to play at an audition.

**Sabrina Levinson:** I’m meeting with my band teacher this week to work on my audition piece. Though things have been hard for me the past couple of months since I got my braces off, I practically have to re-learn how to play.

**Victor Morgenstern:** I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it pretty quickly.

**Sabrina Levinson:** Yeah, it just feels weird.

**Victor Morgenstern:** This is super random, but, do you think some people from all-state would want to come over after rehearsal in two weeks and play Guitar Hero and hang out? I know I’m usually pretty quiet during rehearsals, but I think I need to start making more friends there this year.

**Sabrina Levinson:** That sounds really fun! I’d have to ask my Dad because we’re with him on the weekends, but I doubt he’d say no.

**Victor Morgenstern:** Ari’s going to visit Jasmine and Dad will be in Princeton with Elio that weekend. I’ll need to ask him if people can come over.

**Sabrina Levinson:** Oh! An unsupervised party!

**Victor Morgenstern:** Not unsupervised, but might as well be. My old aunts are going to be here “watching” me.

**Sabrina Levinson:** Who were you thinking of inviting?

**Victor Morgenstern:** I don’t know, maybe you can help me get a group together once my Dad says it’s okay?

**Sabrina Levinson:** Sure! Keep me posted!

* * *

During Spanish class on Thursday, I could not pay attention to anything Señora Murray was saying. Everything went in one ear and out the other - I felt woozy and really cold. My stomach felt like I’d just ridden a roller coaster after scarfing down a huge meal. Nausea was slowly creeping up on me, and suddenly, I felt like I was going to vomit.

I raised my hand, and when Señora Murray finally called on me, I said, “May I use the hall pass?”

“En español, Victor!” She exclaimed, unnecessarily rolling the R in my first name and elongating the I into an “eeeee”.

“No me siento bien,” I said, getting up without her permission. I grabbed my things, and ran quickly to the bathroom. At least I made it to a stall in time before I threw up, I didn’t need my classmates to make fun of me for something else. A few minutes later, Dylan McGrath knocked on the door of the bathroom.

“Uhhhh, Vic, are you okay, man? Señora Murray sent me in here to see if you needed to go to the nurse.”

“I feel a little better, but yeah, I’m going to go to the nurse. Can you tell her that I won’t be going back to class?” I shouted through the stall, before I vomited into the bowl once more.

“Yeah, I’ll do that. Uhhh, feel better?” he said apprehensively, as I heard him leave the bathroom.

When I finally had the ability to leave the stall, I ran to the nurse’s office, where I asked if she could call my Dad and have him pick me up. The nurse took my temperature while we waited, and said I had a fever. Dad picked me up a half hour later and took me home.

“Are you sure I don’t need to go to the doctor?” I asked from the backseat, as I held a paper bag in front of me as a precaution.

“You either ate something bad or you have a stomach virus. The doctor won’t do anything, Vic,” he said, pulling into our driveway.

“Thanks for leaving school to get me,” I said. “I feel bad when you have to miss work because of me.”

“I love you, Pup, you’re not inconveniencing me. I’m just going to work from home for the rest of the day.”

When we got home, he told me to go to my room and try to sleep it off, and gave me a trash can to leave next to my bed just in case. The next few days were going to be fun, I could feel it already.

* * *

Dad made me stay home from school the next day because I still had a fever, even though I was feeling less queasy. He said he had to go teach his morning lecture, but he’d be back to spend the afternoon with me. After watching _The Price is Right_ , the only good thing on television during the school day, and after I made myself toast for lunch (my stomach could not possibly handle anything else), I took out my laptop, bored out of my mind. I saw that the Perlmans were active on Skype, and decided to try to ring them.

“Oh, hi Vic! What a pleasant surprise!” Annella said, waving at the camera.

“How are you and Sammy doing?” I asked.

She grinned. “We’re good! He’s in the next room, do you want me to call him in?” she offered. “Sammy, Vic est sur l'ordinateur!” Annella shouted.

“How wonderful! I’ll be right there,” I heard him say in the background.

“To what do we owe this lovely surprise?” she asked.

I moved the computer to a more comfortable spot on my lap and said, “Dad thinks I have a stomach virus, so I stayed home from school today. I doubt I’m missing much, but it’s boring at home alone.”

“Where’s your father?” Sammy asked, popping into the frame.

“He’s at work, he said he’ll be home in the early afternoon. He couldn’t take the day off.”

“Well, we’re happy to keep you company,” Annella offered. “Or at least, I can, Sammy probably needs to get back to work soon.”

I spoke with the Perlmans for the next twenty minutes - they always seemed to be the only adults who were genuinely interested in what I had to say. They asked about my classes, if I’d been using the keyboard they’d gotten me, and I told them I was thinking of auditioning for a performing arts high school, which they thought was a “marvelous” idea.

While Sammy was telling me about one of the courses he was teaching, I heard the door slam, and Ari ran up the stairs to the bathroom and slam the door. “I’ll talk to you later, I think Ari just came home sick, too,” I said.

“I hope you boys all feel better. Get some rest,” Annella said, waving goodbye.

I walked out of the room, and saw Dad knock on the bathroom door. “Are you okay Ari?” he asked quietly.

“I’m throwing up, what do you think?” he shouted. Ari was even more difficult to deal with when he was sick.

“I take it I got Ari sick?” I asked, frowning.

Dad shrugged. “Not necessarily your fault, but I think he’s got the same bug.”

“Where’s Ari’s car, if you picked him up?” I wondered.

“Still at the school, he’s not 18, so I had to come sign him out, and he wasn’t in a state to be driving. I’ll get a neighbor to drive me to the school later and I’ll go bring his car home.”

Turns out it was shaping up to be quite the eventful weekend, because when Dad got home from picking up Ari’s car at the high school, he was the third Morgenstern afflicted with the stomach virus over the course of 24 hours. Once his stomach had settled somewhat, he joined Ari and me in the living room, where we were watching television and munching on crackers.

“Looks like we’ll all be home tomorrow,” he said, his face finally regaining its normal color after it had been almost green earlier.

“This is a great start to Yom Kippur,” Ari added. “Guess we’re all fasting, because none of us will be able to keep anything down.”

I started laughing and then rolled to my side. “Oww, it hurts to laugh.”

“I should call Elio and tell him to stay home this weekend,” Dad said, grabbing the landline.

“Hey… How was your day? … Not so great, seems Ari and I both caught the same stomach virus as Vic… You should probably stay home this weekend… No, we’ll be fine, you should avoid us and protect yourself… It’s vomit city over here… Are you sure? I really don’t mind if you don’t make the drive… I don’t need someone to take care of me, I’m fine… Okay, I appreciate it, then… If you want to come, I won’t say no, I don’t want to go a weekend without seeing you… We’ll see you tomorrow night, then… I’ll tell the boys you say hello... I love you, too.”

“He realizes if he comes this weekend, he’s going to get sick, right?” Ari asked, wrapping himself in his blanket.

“He just wants to help, we’ll make him wear a mask all weekend or something,” Dad suggested.

I chuckled. “You know he’s going to refuse, and then spend half of the weekend kneeling in front of the toilet.”

“As opposed to kneeling in front of Dad?” Ari whispered to me, out of earshot of Dad.

I threw a pillow at Ari. “Gross!” I shouted, and unrelated to Ari’s comment, I felt my stomach churning again.

This was going to be a long weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was taking me a while to write, but I've outlined most of the rest of the story, and I hope you'll all like everything I have planned for all of our boys! I'm mostly using this chapter to lay the groundwork for some upcoming plot.
> 
> The next one will be posted much sooner than this one was, I promise! Thank you all for your patience :)


	9. A Bit Tied Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is some very NSFW content toward the end of this chapter, as an FYI :)

_**POV: Elio** _

_**Friday, September 21, 2007 - Friday, September 28, 2007** _

This was not at all how I pictured our weekend, but I was glad to help in any way I could. Oliver told me on the phone that he was forcing me to wear a surgical mask all weekend, since he didn’t want me to catch the bug that had afflicted the rest of his clan.

I arrived in the late afternoon, and everyone was asleep - I was grateful that Oliver had given me a set of keys last week. Due to their illness, or perhaps a house filled with two teenage boys and a sick father, the house was a mess, so I took the opportunity to channel my inner Mafalda and clean all of the rooms and the bathroom on the ground floor. I figured once everyone was awake, I could tackle upstairs. If their germs were indeed everywhere, then I was going to work on disinfecting the house.

As I was vacuuming the living room, Oliver slowly came down the stairs in his bathrobe and slippers. I shut off the vacuum cleaner, and walked over to him, giving him a hug. “Keep your distance,” he warned. “I think I’m still contagious. And put a mask on before you get sick!”

“Hi, Elio, thank you for making the four and a half hour drive to take care of me this weekend! I missed you, and I love you very much,” I said, in my deepest voice, a terrible impersonation of Oliver if ever there was one.

Oliver laughed and then sat down on the stair he was standing on. “Vic was right, it does hurt to laugh. I did miss you, and I do love you very much. You know that. C’mere.” He took my hand, kissed my palm, and said, “Now, go wash your hand before my germs infect you, too.”

“I didn’t realize the doctor in Dr. Morgenstern was an MD,” I said, walking to the bathroom to wash my hands.

“I think the masks are in the medicine cabinet!” he shouted. “Put one on.”

When I came back to the living room, Oliver was sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket. “Are you going to be this dominating in the bedroom tonight, too? I’m not going to lie, it’s really turning me on.”

Oliver shook his head. “You’re lucky the boys are asleep, but we’ll revisit this next weekend. No way you’re sharing a bed with me tonight. I’d give you our bed, but I’ve already contaminated our room, but I’ve left you everything you need in the basement for the pull-out couch.” Our room. Our bed. Just hearing him say those things about his house warmed my heart. I pouted, because I did not travel all of this way to not sleep next to him for two nights. “Come on, Elio, I don’t want you to get sick.”

“You do look miserable,” I said, putting on a mask and sitting next to him.

“Not as miserable as I feel. The older I get, the worse these things hit me. Ari is overly dramatic when he’s sick, but when he’s awake, you won’t even realize that Vic is sick, except when he’s vomiting.”

I picked up his feet and put them on my lap, and began to massage them, just like he’d told me his Bubbe did when he was sick as a child.

Ari came down the stairs a short while later, and saw us in the living room. “If I’m interrupting, I’ll come back later,” he said, turning around.

“No, you can join us,” Oliver said. He came into the room and sat on the couch opposite where we were sitting.

“When did you get here, Elio?” Ari asked.

“A couple of hours ago. I didn’t want to wake you boys. How are you feeling?” I inquired.

He sat with his knees to his chest. “Marvelous. Like I haven’t thrown up the contents of my stomach four times over today.”

Vic slowly made his way down the stairs and joined us. “I’ve been reading in my room, I didn’t realize you were here already, Elio,” he said.

“I left early so I could get here before rush hour traffic started,” I said.

“Are we going to Yom Kippur services?” Vic asked.

Ari laughed loudly, and then put his head down on a pillow. “No, I think we’re going to skip this year. Do you want to text Abigail and tell her to let Trudy know they can take our seats tonight?” Oliver said.

“I’m feeling better, I want to go,” Vic said. He nearly stumbled into the room. I got off of the couch and helped him sit down.

“I think you’re all better off staying in tonight,” I said. “I know you probably want to fast for Yom Kippur, but it’ll be healthier for you if you eat something. It’s almost dinner time, I’ll go make some chicken and rice so you boys will have something in you.”

Ari groaned. “I don’t know if I can eat anything. I had a cracker earlier, and it made me throw up for two hours.”

“I’ll make you some broth, then. You need to hydrate,” I said.

“Thank you, Elio,” Oliver said.

I went into the kitchen, and the bleats of discomfort echoed from the living room.

Mafalda would have been ashamed of me for having boiled broth from a carton instead of making it from scratch, but the boys needed nutrients, not a gourmet meal. I boiled chicken and made plain white rice in Oliver’s rice cooker - I figured I could just add seasoning to my own meal after the fact.

The Morgensterns joined me in the kitchen, each moving at his own labored and glacial pace. “Eat what you can, but at the very least, try to have some broth, and drink as much water as you can,” I instructed.

Vic took a bite of rice, grimaced at how bland it was, and dumped the rest of his rice into his bowl of broth. “There, now I’ve got some rice soup. Maybe the rice will be edible.”

“Is it that bad?” I asked. “I just wanted to keep everything simple.”

“You couldn’t even add salt?” Ari asked, pushing the rice away. He stuck his spoon in the bowl and slurped some soup.

“Elio, don’t listen to them. It’s fine. They’re both just being grumpy,” Oliver said, forcing himself to take a bite of chicken.

I made sure that everyone had eaten what I deemed a sufficient amount, and they all went back to the living room to watch television. The food seemed to be revivifying, and all three of them had regained some color and energy. I took the opportunity to go upstairs and clean the boys’ bathroom. Maybe Oliver had the right idea forcing me to wear this surgical mask. As as seventeen year old, I dreamed of being able to spend my life with Oliver. This was definitely not what I pictured as being part of the package, but I wanted to be able to help my new family in any way I could.

While I was scrubbing the sink, Ari ran into the bathroom, shoving me out of the way. I sat on the floor with him, rubbing his back and pushing back his floppy hair while he vomited. I was surprised that he actually let me touch him - this felt like real progress.

I brought Ari a towel and a glass of water. I helped dab at his face, and encouraged him to drink. “I know it seems gross right now, but you need to keep drinking water.”

“It’ll just make me throw up again,” he said, grabbing the glass and taking a sip. “Thanks, Elio. You didn’t have to help me.”

“I know,” I said, sitting down next to him, leaning against the sink. “I wanted to.”

* * *

I tossed and turned on the pull-out couch, unable to fall asleep. _Screw this_ , I thought. Oliver had all of the best intentions, but I’m not sleeping in his house, two floors below him, in a bed by myself. I’d rather risk getting sick. I slowly crept upstairs and poked my head in Oliver’s room. He was sleeping on his side, his limbs askew and arms draped over the edge of the bed. He’d kicked his blanket off, and was drenched in sweat - his fever must have broken, so this was a good sign. I went into the bathroom, dampened a washcloth, and wiped off his forehead.

“Hey,” he smiled at me. He squinted at the clock on the cable box. “It’s late, why aren’t you asleep?”

“I wanted to check on you. I couldn’t sleep without you.” I bent down to kiss his forehead. “Can I sleep in here?”

“If I said no, would it stop you?” he asked. I shook my head. “Get in the bed, then.”

Oliver didn’t change positions, staying on his side on the edge of the bed, so I curled up against him, taking my opportunity to be the big spoon. I held him and rubbed his arm while we both drifted off to sleep. When I woke up around 8am, he was still in my arms.

“You feeling better?” I asked, when I felt him begin to stir.

“A little. Still feel simultaneously freezing and warm, and a little woozy, but I don’t feel like nauseated, so… best I’ve felt in two days.” He sat up and stretched, and turned around to kiss my cheek. “I’m still sick and don’t want to infect you,” he added.

“I know, I know, I’ll go put the mask on. Actually, I want you to tell me to put the mask on.”

Oliver furrowed his brow and gave me a confused look. “Put the mask on?”

I shook my head. “No, I want you to demand that I put it on.”

He seemed to get my gist. “Elio, I’m too tired to play that game right now. Wouldn’t you rather I instructed you to take things off, instead?”

“You understand what I’m saying now,” I said, adjusting the elastic of the mask behind my ears.

“If you want it like that, I will give it to you like that. Next weekend.” He bit his lip, and eyed me from head to toe in my very sexy oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts. “But, in preparation for next weekend, don’t touch yourself at all. I want that cock to be all mine.”

There it was. That was what I was looking for. “I think that can be arranged.”

“I look forward to servicing you, then. When I don’t have a fever.”

* * *

At breakfast, Vic kept scratching at his lip and chin. "Dad, I think I need to start shaving. Some of my classmates are already shaving, and a few people made fun of me because I haven’t yet."

Ari stifled a giggle. "You mean, you don't want to keep that killer 'stache?" he asked.

"After we eat some toast, I'll take you upstairs and show you how," Oliver said, getting up to examine Vic's face. "You're right, it's probably time."

Oliver went into a hallway supply closet, took out a new razor, opened the package, and attached a new blade. "Do you want to help, Elio?" Oliver asked me.

“Not sure I’m the best man for the job. I barely need to shave,” I said, rubbing my cheek. “Remember that beard I had a few years ago? That took nearly a year of trying to grow it out.”

“I like you better without it, anyway,” he said.

Vic and I followed Oliver into his bathroom, where he took out his shaving cream and showed Vic how to lather up.

"See the direction your hair grows? You want to shave with the grain," Oliver said. He imitated a motion, and Vic followed with the razor.

"Ow!" Vic said, as he nicked himself. I handed him a tissue and told him to press it against where he was bleeding. He looked annoyed at himself, so I tried to comfort him.

“Don’t worry, Vic, you’ll get the hang of it.” A few bandages later, Vic had finished shaving for the first time.

I tried to be as helpful as possible for the remainder of the weekend. On Saturday afternoon, I offered to go to the supermarket and run any errands they needed. Four hours later, after a stop at the dry cleaner, the farmer’s market, and the supermarket, I was finally at my last stop, the music store.

“Hi, Oliver, can you put Vic on the phone?” I asked, holding two boxes of clarinet reeds in my hand. “Hey, Vic, you wrote that you needed 3.5 strength reeds, but you didn’t say if it needed to be regular cut or French file cut…” Vic sweetly tried to explain the difference and why he has a preference, but I cut him off, as the store attendant was waiting for me. “Regular, got it. Just didn’t want to buy the wrong one… I’ll be home in a bit… No, I will not bring you home ice cream, yesterday you could barely stomach rice. Your body will not be able to handle ice cream… Yes, that also applies to frozen yogurt. I’ll see you soon.”

After unpacking the groceries, I collapsed on the couch next to Oliver, who was looking markedly better. “Is suburban family life always this exhausting?” I asked, placing my head on his shoulder.

“This was an easy day, no one needs to be shuttled around. Before Ari could drive, sometimes the boys had to be in different places at the same time. There’s never any time to rest, but it’s worth it,” he said.

As if on cue, the boys came barrelling through the room, tossing a soft ball back and forth. At first it looked like they were just playing catch, but upon further examination, they were each trying to hit the other as hard as they could with the ball. “Quit it,” Oliver said. “You’re going to break your Aunt Doris’s vase again.”

“And we can’t have that, can we,” Ari joked.

“If you’re going to throw things at each other, please do it outside?” Oliver said. “On second thought, stop throwing things at each other. And don’t go outside, you’re both still sick.”

“Ugh, Dad, I feel fine now!” Vic said, picking the ball up from the floor and chucking it at Ari’s shin.

Ari chased a screaming Vic out of the room and upstairs. “The joys of parenthood?” I asked, laughing.

“I love my boys, but I cannot wait until next weekend, when I can have you all to myself, along with some peace and quiet,” Oliver said, squeezing my hand.

“Are you getting tested this week?” I asked him. “I made an appointment for Monday.”

“As long as they’re willing to draw blood from me after this weekend’s bug, I have an appointment on Tuesday.”

I grinned at him. “So… as long as both of our tests come back clear, which they probably will…”

“I don’t think we’re going to want to leave your bedroom,” Oliver whispered. “Just remember my instructions from earlier.”

* * *

By the following Friday morning, we’d both gotten confirmation from our respective doctors that all of our testing was negative. This felt like a momentous occasion, and I wished I was with Oliver instead of five hours away from him. Soon we’d be living together, but the distance was still tough. This was it - we’d never need to use condoms again. There was a comforting finality in that thought.

Oliver dropped Ari off in Manhattan to spend the weekend with Jasmine, and then we’d have a weekend alone. I knew it would delay his arrival by a bit, but I asked if he could stop and pick up bagels at my favorite place near Columbia’s campus so we could have breakfast for the next two days. That way, we could spend less time in the kitchen and more in the bedroom.

I’d prepared my mother’s coq au vin recipe for dinner, but when Oliver arrived, he seemed more interested in me, which I did not mind at all. Once he put his things down, he grabbed me by my shirt collar and kissed me roughly. “Fuck, I missed this,” he said. “Bedroom. Now.”

“You don’t want to eat dinner first?” I asked. “Aren’t you hungry after that drive?”

“I’m hungrier for you,” he growled.

“Let me just shut off the oven and the stove so the house doesn’t burn down,” I said, kissing him again.

“Okay, but be quick. You don’t want to see what happens when you keep me waiting,” he added, raising his eyebrow, before he turned around and went upstairs to my bedroom.

I covered the pot and wrapped the vegetables in foil so we could eat them later. A few minutes later, I went into the bedroom and sat next to Oliver on the bed, who was now wearing only his boxer shorts. “I missed you,” I said, nuzzling against him.

“Who gave you permission to sit down? I’ve been waiting for you for almost five minutes,” Oliver said, pointing at my old Milou watch I’d given him over the summer.

“Oh!” I gasped. He was playing along with what I’d told him I wanted last weekend. Now his curt tone made sense.

“I think your tardiness deserves a spanking. Do you agree?” he asked.

I smirked at him, liking this new side of him. “Whatever you believe is the proper punishment.”

He bit his lip, holding in his laughter, and said, “Take off your pants and bend over the bed.”

I stood up, pulled my pants and boxers to the ground, and bent over. He stood behind me, and very gently tapped my rear. “You can be rougher, Oliver,” I said.

“But I don’t want to hurt you,” he said, in his normal tone.

“I’ll tell you if you’re hurting me. You’re sexy when you’re domineering. Keep going.” I turned my head to look at him, and we nodded at each other. 

“If you insist.” He spanked me again, the sound of his hand against my behind echoing in the bedroom. I yelped in a combination of pain and pleasure. “Once more for good measure,” he said, this time smacking the other cheek. “Take off the rest of your clothes and get on the bed,” he instructed.

I unbuttoned my shirt as quickly as I could, and threw it to the ground, and then pulled my undershirt off. I sat against the headboard.

“Tsk, tsk, you didn’t listen to my instructions,” he said. “You’re still wearing socks.”

I crossed my legs under me as I leaned against the headboard. “What are you going to do about it?”

He walked around my room and began looking through my closet and my dresser drawers.

“What are you looking for?” I asked.

“Got it,” he said, finding my rack of neck ties. _This just took a very interesting turn_ , I thought to myself. He stood next to me on the bed, grabbed my wrist, and wrapped a tie around it, tying it to the bed frame. “If these are too tight, or you don’t like what I’m doing, just tell me to stop, okay?” he said, back to regular Oliver.

“Stop breaking character. I like this. It’s fun.” He tied each of my wrists to the bed frame, and then straddled me, knees on either side of my hips. “If you’re worried, do you want to use a safe word?”

He nodded, and whispered in my ear, “What about ‘peach’?” Fuck, even his choice of a safe word was sexy.

I took a deep breath. “Peach it is. Now, where were we?”

Oliver slowly made his way down my body, gently biting my neck, flicking at my nipples with his tongue, kissing every inch of me slowly, until he reached my feet. He pulled off each sock, and sucked on my toes, which was not something we normally did, our first time together notwithstanding, but tonight, it was surprisingly erotic, sending shivers down my spine. I was hard almost immediately.

“Oh, you like that?” he asked, stopping immediately. He shed his boxers, kicking them off the bed. He grabbed my legs, spread them slightly, and positioned himself between them. “Did you do as I asked? Did you make sure not to touch yourself this week?”

“It was difficult, but I survived,” I said. My cock was already throbbing in anticipation.

“Excellent,” he said, licking his lips. He gripped me tight, and then teasingly licked the head torturously slow. Oliver eventually took my whole length in his mouth, and I moaned loudly. I went to grip his hair, like I usually do, and remembered that my hands were tied to the frame. This was going to be trying.

“Oliver, I’m close,” I groaned. He pulled back and smirked at me.

After I whimpered, he said, “Did you think I was going to let you come that easily?”

“That’s not fair,” I noted. I had asked him to play this game with me, and he was playing it perhaps a bit too well. I was going to ride this train as far as he was willing to take it.

Oliver shook his head, and ran a finger down my chest and stomach. “I don’t play fair, I play dirty. Now, I think you’re talking too much. I can think of something productive you can be doing with that chatty mouth.” He knelt in front of me, and gripped himself, but then he hesitated when he started getting closer to my face.

“Oliver, you don’t have to ask my permission. I want to suck you off. Except, I’m a bit tied up right now, so you’re going to have to…” before I could finish my sentence, he guided himself into my mouth, and began rocking his hips back and forth while he gripped onto the headboard for support. 

“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled, rhythmically thrusting back and forth while I sucked him. I once again forgot that my hands were restrained when I tried to reach forward to grab his ass.

He pulled back before he finished and said, “Enough for now.” He very briefly took me in his mouth, and then teasingly flicked at my hole with his tongue. This was getting frustrating. “Where’s your lube?” Finally!

I panted heavily and said, “nightstand on my right, top drawer.” He reached over, grabbed the bottle, and poured some on his fingers.

“Spread your legs,” he demanded. I did what he asked with no complaints. He inserted his finger inside of me, eventually adding a second and a third. I squirmed around in pleasure, which seemed to excite Oliver.

After removing his hand, he slicked up his cock, and then took his mock wrestling position and entered me. We both yelped out in pleasure. He took the lead, thrusting quickly and roughly, pounding into me. He came quickly, and, for the first time in twenty years, inside of me. My cock was still pulsing with desire, and he’d still not let me climax.

Oliver curled up next to me, gently running his fingers up and down my body. “I think it’s time for me to have some fun with this,” he said, tugging at me, once his breathing had slowed down to normal.

“Please,” I begged. “I want you so badly.”

“Well, I certainly know what I want to do with it,” he said, positioning himself between my legs again, running his tongue from shaft to tip. “I think I get to make the decisions tonight.”

I nodded quickly. Whatever he wanted, I wanted. Oliver sat up, and untied my hands. Were we done? Was he just going to leave me hanging?

“This worked better in my head on the drive here. I need your hands,” he said, pouring lube on my fingers. “I need you to warm me up, but don’t move too far away from where you’re sitting, I’m not done tying you up.” He got on all fours, and I did exactly as he told me. He gave me very specific direction about what fingers to use, how much pressure to apply, and how quickly to go. Oliver was very demanding, and I liked being bossed around by him.

He re-tied me to the bed frame, poured lube into his palm, and massaged some onto my cock. Then, Oliver gripped me tightly, guiding me into him as he rode me. I was usually the one riding him, so this was a nice reversal of roles. He rolled his hips slowly while he dug his knees into the mattress. I thrust upward, and he shook his head. “Do I need to tie down your hips, too?” he asked, biting his lip. I tried as hard as I could to stay still and let him do the work, but after everything he’d put me through tonight, it was all getting to be too much. I suddenly came forcefully, arching my body upward. It was one of the most intense orgasms I’d ever had in my life - my body shivered with aftershocks, and I was grateful for the release, especially after he’d teased me so many times tonight.

“Mon dieu,” I muttered, every language I spoke a jumble in my post-orgasmic haze. I didn’t even notice when Oliver had untied me and put both of the neckties on my desk chair.

“Did you like that?” he asked, climbing back into bed.

I grinned and turned to face him. “That was really intense. I loved that. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Don’t expect me to do that too often. Though, I think you need practice being submissive,” he smirked.

Both of our stomachs growled - we’d seemingly forgotten about the dinner I’d prepared for us. “Shall we go reheat dinner so we can eat something, besides each other?” I asked.

“As long as you promise that we’ll go right back to the bedroom after. Perhaps sans the neckties.”

I looked for my boxers and slipped them back on. “Why limit ourselves to the bedroom? We’ve got a whole house at our disposal this weekend, and no kids or parents or housekeepers to interrupt us…” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo boy, this seemed like the right time for our boys to dabble in some kink. I felt like I'd written Oliver as pretty submissive so far in this story, so I wanted Elio to encourage his dom side. Also, I know I talk about testing in both of my stories, but it's really important, and now that they've been careful and been tested, they can finally have sex without condoms. It only took them like 80 chapters of story ;)
> 
> This was a hard chapter to write - I had this idea in my head of Elio taking care of Oliver and the boys, and of it being really sweet that he takes this caretaker role (particularly the part where he sits with Ari while Ari is sick), but in actuality, writing about people vomiting was just sort of gross. I wrote this a few different ways, trying to only talk about the icky parts of being sick when it was narratively necessary. It was much sweeter in my head. Hopefully this found a happy medium.
> 
> I have a pretty good idea of how far I want to take this story, and I'm so glad you all want to continue this journey with me. It's going to be a fun ride, I promise. At some point, we're going to start skipping a month here, a few weeks here, because their lives will be (happily) repetitive once Elio is living with them. But I think you'll like the ultimate direction this goes. Thank you for your continued support.


	10. Young and Unimpressive

_**POV: Ari** _

_**Friday, September 28-Saturday, September 29** _

 

**To:** Dr. Maria Zuniga-Rothschild (xxxxxx@bu.edu)

**From:** Ariel Morgenstern (xxxxxx@gmail.com)

**Date:** Tuesday, September 25, 2007

**Subject:** Columbia Interview - Thank you!

Dr. Zuniga-Rothschild,

It was great meeting you this afternoon, and thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to speak with me. I really enjoyed speaking with you about your time at Columbia, and your experiences as an undergraduate in Manhattan in the 90s before going to medical school in Boston.

In particular, I appreciate your insight into course selection and your stories about studying abroad in Spain. I think I'd be very interested in studying abroad, possibly in Athens, Rome, or maybe London. I loved spending my summer working in Italy, and I can see myself wanting to spend more time in Europe on various academic pursuits during or after college.

Columbia has an excellent classics faculty, and I really hope to learn from their expertise. In addition, I love the urban campus, and would take full advantage of all that New York has to offer. As we had discussed during the interview about my little brother's obsession with music, he has also told me that he'd disown me if I didn't buy as many student tickets to the NY Philharmonic as I could.

Once again, thank you for taking the time to interview me, and I hope you have a nice vacation next month in Costa Rica!

Sincerely,

Ariel Morgenstern

* * *

**To:** Dr. Samuel Perlman (xxxxxx@polimi.it)

**From:** Ariel Morgenstern (xxxxx@gmail.com)

**Date:** Tuesday, September 25, 2008

**Subject:** Thank you so much!

Pro,

If I didn’t thank you enough over already, thank you so much for everything you did for me this summer. I just had my Columbia interview, and I think it went really well. We spent most of the interview talking about the work I did with you at the villa, and about why this has inspired me to study classics.

Also, thank you for sending the letters of recommendation. Obviously I don’t actually know what you wrote, the envelopes have to remain sealed, but I appreciate that you shipped the stack from Milan. Hopefully we’ll only need to send the one to Columbia, but my dad says better safe than sorry.

In other school news, I got the lead in the school play again! We’re doing _Grease_ , and I was cast as Danny Zuko. It’s a silly show, but it’s probably my last opportunity to be on a stage like that, since I won’t be doing theater in college or anything.

Send my best to Annella and Mafalda and everyone.

-Ari

* * *

Dad seemed distant and lost in thought during the entire drive to Manhattan. He was quiet, and made me listen to NPR for most of the drive. As we lost reception, he switched the channel until he found the next NPR station. Boring. I didn’t want to complain, because it was nice enough that he was taking me to New York and letting me stay with Jasmine for the weekend. Actually, it was really cool of him. The least I could do was let him listen to his boring talk radio.

I felt sorry for Vic, who was stuck in the house being watched by Aunts Doris and Agnes for the weekend. They still saw him as a little kid, and were probably going to make him go to bed by like 7 each night.

As we drove down the Henry Hudson Parkway in the Bronx, I started getting nervous. I hadn’t seen Jasmine in over a month. We spoke nearly every day, but what if she didn’t like me anymore? What if she decided she wanted to be with someone who was in college, or lives in New York? I scrolled through our texts from the past few days, and she seemed genuinely excited that I was coming to visit her, and I didn’t think she would let me come all the way to New York if she was going to end things. I was just being nervous for no particular reason.

My fears were for naught. Once Dad dropped me off, Jasmine came down to the car to say hello, and we immediately went up to her dorm room. She introduced me to her suitmate, Connie, and then quickly took me into her bedroom for some really good “I haven’t seen you since the summer” sex.

As we were getting dressed once more so we could go to dinner, I said, “I am really glad you have your own bedroom…”

“We would have just had to get creative, if I shared a room like I did last year. You know, the good ol’ hair tie or sock on the door trick,” she said, while she put her bra back on.

“Do you really have to put that back on?” I asked, playfully pouting.

She gave me her patented _I don’t have time for your nonsense_  look, saying, “I do if we’re going to go have dinner.”

“Aww, but I thought we could just spend the weekend in bed!” I flopped onto her pillow and grabbed her by the waist, knocking her back down onto the bed.

After we kissed for a few more minutes, she said, “Ari, come on, let’s get dressed. I want to show you around and take you uptown for dinner!”

I raised my eyebrow. “Uptown? Aren’t we already uptown?”

Jasmine started laughing and pulled her shirt over her head. “You realize Manhattan has one hundred blocks north of where we are, right?” This was Jasmine’s way of telling me I was a spoiled rich kid.

“Show me uptown, then! I’ve only ever been to New York City a few times, this is as far north as my family’s taken me.”

With that, we headed to the subway, and Jasmine took me to Washington Heights. We went to a tiny Dominican restaurant, where Jasmine ordered everything for us in Spanish.

“Did I know that you speak Spanish?” I asked her.

“I don’t, not really, but I know enough to order food and ask where the bathroom is.”

While we waited for our meal, I caught Jasmine up on the week.

“So, you think your Columbia interview went well, then?” she asked, leaning her cheek on her hand.

I nodded, grabbing a fried plantain to munch on. “Yeah, it went really well. The interviewer was really into asking about the work we did over the summer, and seemed impressed with all of the activities I’m in and everything I do. I had a really good feeling after the interview.”

“I told you that you were going to knock her socks off.” Jasmine took my hand and squeezed it. “I’m proud of you, I hope it works out.”

“Me too.”

Over mofongo and a chicken dish, Jasmine told me about our plans for the weekend. We’d get dessert near campus, and then go to one of her friends’ dorms for a board game night. She promised I wouldn’t be the only significant other or male there, but I didn’t care as long as I was with her.

Jasmine seemed uncomfortable with my offer to pay for dinner, since she picked the restaurant. “I’ve got it, I’d like to treat you, you’re letting me stay with you all weekend.” I picked up the check. “Also, this whole meal was less than $20? Why didn’t we order more food?”

I had a really nice time with her friends that night. They were just as nerdy and as academically-inclined as she was, which was exactly what I was expecting. A few of her friends brought their boyfriends or girlfriends, so I wasn’t the only significant other, though as Jasmine went to Barnard, the girls vastly outnumbered the guys. We had a few beers and played Cranium and a surprisingly heated few rounds of Boggle.

Jasmine seemed to light up around her friends, but maybe it’s because for the first time in our relationship, we were on her turf - I know she said she wasn’t popular in high school, but in college, she seemed to be the center of her friend group. I enjoyed watching her lead discussions about their professors, joining in on a venting session that was somehow simultaneously about the New York subway and also George W. Bush (I didn’t even try to connect the dots on that one), and doing a victory dance when she beat everyone at Boggle. Jasmine was so adorable when she was in her element. And all of the time, but especially now.

* * *

We were tipsy when we got back to her apartment, but given the time constraints of our weekend, we made the most of the rest of the night. Shockingly, we weren’t hungover in the morning, and after a bagel with lox and cream cheese, we made our way to the Upper East Side to go to an antiquities exhibit she wanted to show me at the Met. The curator, to neither of our surprise, was friends with Professor Perlman, and Jasmine had arranged to talk with him for a paper she was writing, so I wandered the museum by myself while she worked.

I sat on a bench in front of _Washington Crossing the Delaware_ , and texted Jasmine to tell her where I was. It took me half an hour just to find the painting - other than the Louvre, this was the biggest museum I’d ever been in, and it was a total labyrinth when trying to explore on your own. I was zoning out, and I almost jumped off of the bench when I felt arms wrap around me.

“Having fun?” Jasmine asked.

“Yeah, I really liked some of the exhibits I walked through. I love the combination of artifacts and art.”

“Isn’t the Met great? I’m here pretty often,” she said.

“I think if I don’t become a professor like my parents, I can see myself working in a museum like this.”

She rested her head on my shoulder and looked up at the painting, which took up the entire room. “That could be a really interesting career path.”

“I mean, I don’t know. I grew up with two parents who are professors, but I never thought about doing that until working with Pro this summer. It’s stupid that I have to start making decisions like that now. I’m only seventeen.”

Jasmine took my hand and squeezed it. “You don’t have to make any sort of decision now. You’ll take classes in tons of subjects in college. You’ll change your mind a hundred times. That’s what college is for.”

I tilted my head and looked at her. “But you went into college knowing what you wanted to do.”

She shrugged. “I’m just weird. But you already knew that.”

“It’s one of the many things I like about you.”

* * *

That evening, Jasmine’s a capella group, Fermata The Blue, performed a few songs at a Barnard performing arts showcase. I sat with several of the significant others of some of the girls in the group, some of whom I met the previous evening, and everyone seemed happy to see me again or meet me for the first time. The thing that was abundantly clear was how much everyone adored Jasmine, and that they all thought she was the smartest and kindest person in their friend group. Jasmine didn’t have a solo, but I was there to support her, and cheered loudly after each song. This must be how Dad feels at my concerts - at least at Vic’s concerts, he gets solos, but as the second or third trombone, I’m usually near the back of the stage, playing notes no one can even hear. Yet, he’s at every concert and every play, sitting in the back (mothers have complained when they had to sit behind him), cheering me on.

We followed Jasmine’s friend Brittany and her boyfriend Shane, to the party she was hosting at his off-campus apartment after the showcase. Shane was a graduate student at Columbia, and I felt very much out of place when his friends, mostly in their mid-20s, arrived. At least I was taller than most of them.

After a few slices of pizza and a few cans of beer, I was feeling pretty tipsy. Jasmine was sitting with a few of her friends, so I sat down next to her, and she wrapped an arm around my neck. “I was just telling everyone about all of the work you and Vic did this summer to get your dad together with Elio.”

I could feel my cheeks getting hot. I didn’t really want to talk about that with strangers. “You spent a year trying to set your dad up with a guy after your mom died?” one of the girls asked. I shrugged wordlessly. “That is so sweet!”

We recounted some of our schemes, particularly those that Jasmine helped with. “At least my Dad is happy now. He was so depressed for so many months. I mean, he’s obviously still in mourning, but he’s happy with Elio. Maybe too happy.”

“What do you mean?” Jasmine asked. “I thought you wanted them to be together?”

“Oh, I do. He’s not my mom, but I think Elio is good for my dad. He’s certainly good TO him, and he’s still figuring out what his place is for my brother and me. They just don’t realize that our house is smaller than the villa was. The walls are thinner. The beds are squeakier.”

A few of her friends giggled and Jasmine covered her mouth and let out a high pitched cackle. “Oh… maybe you need to get good headphones or something…”

“I have heard things a son is never meant to hear. At some point, I could hear Elio moaning loudly, but then the voice screamed, ‘Elio’. It wasn’t my Dad’s voice, so I was very confused, but I made a pointed effort to stop thinking about it, because it was gross.”

I went to the kitchen to grab some water, and I watched Jasmine talking to Shane’s friends, who were graduate students. What did she see in me, anyway? I was just an annoying seventeen-year-old high school senior. She was going to leave me soon for a smarter, more mature PhD student she meets in New York.

“What’re you moping about?” Jasmine asked, sneaking up behind me.

“I feel very… young and unimpressive here. You’re going to leave me for one of them,” I said, pointing around to the various men in the room.

She got on her tiptoes and kissed my cheek. “You’re perfect, Ari. Stop doubting yourself. I love you, I’m not going to leave you for someone else. Also, you are definitely going to be one of them some day.”

I kissed her gently, and we went back into the living room to join in on the conversation.

My phone buzzed some times later, and the caller ID said “Home”. “Excuse me, I need to take this,” I said, stepping out into the hallway. It was probably Aunt Doris asking where the vacuum cleaner was.

“Hello?” I said, answering the phone.

“Hey Ari, how’s it going…” Vic said.

I groaned. I did not have the patience to talk to my brother right now. “Vic, I’m at a party, can I talk to you tomorrow?”

“Ummm, do you have a couple of minutes?” he asked nervously.

“Fine. What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I… I think Dad is going to kill me tomorrow. I think I’m going to be in BIG trouble.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Sorry it's been a while since I've updated this fic, but I have not forgotten about it. Tikkun Olam will always be my baby. I've been tweaking my outline, and trying to figure out the timeline for everything I want to happen. I think you'll all like the direction this goes (happy endings only for Elio and Oliver, I promise. Their angst is long over.)
> 
> This chapter is a short one, but I think they'll start getting longer over the next couple of chapters. The next chapter is shorter, but after that, we'll be getting into the meat of the story.
> 
> Life has gotten very busy, but I'll still be updating all of my stories soon :)
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with the journey of Elio and the Morgenstern men. I appreciate you all.


	11. House Party

_**POV: Vic** _

_**Friday, September 28, 2007 - Sunday, September 30, 2007** _

This was the first weekend of my life that I’d spent alone in the house without Dad and Ari. I wished I could have been left alone, but Dad insisted that Aunt Doris and Aunt Agnes stay over and watch me. At least they didn’t call it babysitting. To be fair, I needed them to drive me to all-state band, and to cook for me because I’d probably set the house on fire if I tried to boil water, but it still made me feel like a child. Dad would have let Ari stay home alone.

Other than making dinner for me on Friday night, my Aunts mostly left me to my own devices the first night, which was surprising, given how nosy they usually are about everything and anything. I stayed in my room, practiced clarinet for rehearsal the next day, and did my homework. Dad called in the early evening to check in while he was in Manhattan dropping Ari off - he said he was picking up some bagels for Elio before finishing the drive to Princeton.

After we talked about it last week, Dad had given me permission to invite a few kids over after all-state rehearsal, as long as my Aunts were okay with it on Saturday. He said that he knew Sabrina was a good kid, and trusted my judgment about the other students I’d invite. I talked to Sabrina and asked whom we should invite, and in the end, it was going to be four of us - myself, Sabrina, Shannon Fitzsimmons, Sabrina’s friend who played the saxophone, and Eric Nguyen, who sat next to me in the clarinet section. This was a good start for trying to make friends, a manageable number of people, and nothing too overwhelming. Aunt Agnes was going to pick us up from rehearsal, and then we’d go back to the house, play Guitar Hero and Cranium, and eat some pizza and ice cream.

Everything had been all set, but then word started getting around that I was having people over after rehearsal and that my father was not going to be home. All week, people kept texting me or messaging me about how excited they were for this weekend. I kept trying to shut people down, but I wasn’t sure it had worked.

During the break at all-state rehearsal on Saturday, Vijay Desai came over to me and gave me a fist-pump, and said that he and his twin sister, Anjali, who played flute in the ensemble, would be over after they dropped their instruments off at home and changed. Marcus Walton asked if he should bring his iPod speakers so we could listen to his playlist. This was only a few more people than I had been expecting. Dad had left me money to buy pizza for everyone, but I could open my piggy bank and order an extra pizza pie or two. Aunt Doris and Aunt Agnes couldn’t get that upset with me, right?

As planned, Aunt Agnes picked me, Sabrina, Shannon and Eric up from rehearsal and took us home. We set up the Wii and the guitars in the living room, and Aunt Agnes and Aunt Doris decided that the rock music in the video game was too aggressive and loud for them, so after we ordered pizza and they ate their dinner, they went down to the basement to watch television, since we were only playing a video game and didn’t need constant supervision.

Slowly but surely, a few kids started arriving. First, Vijay and Anjali arrived, then Marcus and a few other drummers, Gustavo Juarez and two other trombone players, and before we knew it, half of the junior high all-state symphonic band was in my living room, and my aunts were none the wiser. I peaked my head downstairs, and they had both fallen asleep on the couch while watching _Murder She Wrote_ on cable. When they woke up, they were going to be furious.

I went into the kitchen and set up the make your own sundae bar as I had planned to do, but we did not have enough ice cream for everyone. It seemed more people were interested in Dad’s beer and liquor cabinet than they were in ice cream. Vijay and Gustavo had a bottle of Dad’s whiskey, and were passing it around. “Guys, that’s my father’s expensive liquor, we’re not allowed to touch this…,” I said, grabbing the bottle before Shannon could take a sip. I took the bottle upstairs and put it in my room, and sat on my bed, hyperventilating.

A few minutes later, Sabrina knocked on my door. “Vic, are you in here? Can I come in?”

She walked in and saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, my head in my hands, breathing heavily. She sat down next to me, and gently rubbed my back. “Are you okay?” Sabrina asked. It made me even more nervous having her touch me like this, but I didn't tell her. I didn't want her to know that I had a crush on her, and I had been making a concerted effort not to stare at her chest.

“Not really. This was supposed to just be four of us, I didn’t want to host a party.”

Sabrina nodded. “I know, I think when I told Shannon about it, she told a few people, and pretty soon everyone thought this was going to be a rager, since your Dad’s not here.”

“What do I do? Are they still drinking my dad’s alcohol? Oh my God, I’m going to be in so much trouble if my aunts wake up or when my Dad gets home tomorrow…” I wasn’t a rulebreaker, and this was too much for me.

“Yeah, Vijay opened a bottle of wine after you took away this bottle,” she said, pointing at the whiskey on my nightstand. “I think we need to go downstairs and try to get everyone to be quieter so your aunts don’t wake up. At least Marcus’s playlist is fun, we can just encourage everyone to dance and have some ice cream, maybe we can get them to stop drinking?”

That didn’t seem likely. “I went to parties with some of the teenagers that Ari had befriended over the summer in Italy, getting kids to stop drinking doesn’t sound like it’s going to happen.”

“Why don’t we just go re-join the party, and try to have a good time, then? We’ll figure something out,” she offered.

Sabrina was right - if there was no stopping the party, I’d might as well enjoy myself, if I was going to be grounded until I went to college anyway. I still wasn’t going to drink anything, I needed to have my wits about me, but I went into the living room and danced with some of the kids. At some point, Gustavo suggested we play spin the bottle, and I rolled my eyes.

“What, too prude to play? I bet you’ve never even been kissed,” Vijay said. 

Anjali hit her brother in the arm. “Quit it, be nice to him, Vijay. Vic is nice to you.”

“I’ve been kissed, and played spin the bottle before,” I said, looking down at my toes. I didn’t really think it was appropriate to bring up Elena just to brag about having kissed her, so I didn’t give any details.  “We can play, if you all want to. But we should probably not drink so much of my dad’s alcohol.”

Like the way he played trumpet, Vijay liked being the loudest and the center of attention in any room. “Who have you kissed, your Dad’s boyfriend?”

“Stop. Being. Mean.” Anjali gritted through her teeth at Vijay. I wasn’t quite sure if she was defending me or just embarrassed of her twin, but I appreciated it. “Sorry, Vic, he’s just being obnoxious.”

“S’cool,” I muttered. “Vijay, you’d kill to have a career like my Dad’s boyfriend. He’s a music professor at Princeton, and he’s going to be teaching at Harvard in the spring. Professional orchestras play the music he’s composed, and he’s considered to be one of the best piano players in the world. You’ll be lucky if you’re even second chair in your junior high’s band.” Vijay furrowed his brow, but didn’t say anything else, and Marcus gave me a high five.

We played a very PG-rated game of spin the bottle, during which Vijay stormed into the kitchen after landing on his sister for the second time, and each time, no one would let him spin again. I did get two quick pecks from Sabrina, and from a few other girls, which made me happy. After, Marcus put the music back on, and we all danced in the living room. I periodically poked my head into the basement, and Aunt Doris and Aunt Agnes were both still soundly asleep, even while we were being loud upstairs. I just hoped they stayed asleep until everyone left and I’d be able to clean.

When I was sitting on the couch talking to Sabrina and Eric, I saw a few people giggle and head into the backyard. I followed them outside, and they had somehow found Ari’s stash of pot and were passing around a joint. If Dad didn’t kill me, Ari might get to me first…

“Guys… can you not smoke pot out here? I’m going to get in trouble…”

“Relax, man,” Marcus said. “Take a puff.”

I shook my head. “I don’t smoke. I got really, REALLY high one night over the summer, and I think it was enough pot for a while.”

“Kissing girls, smoking pot, who are you?” Vijay said, putting his hand on my shoulder. “You’re not just making this up to seem cool, are you?”

It definitely wasn’t worth mentioning that I hadn’t been aware I was eating a special brownie until I was already high. I grabbed the joint, and then couldn’t figure out how to put it out without burning something or setting the porch on fire. “Can someone please put this out before a neighbor sees or smells this, and put the plastic bag back where you found it? My brother is going to murder me.”

When I went back inside, things were not as I had left them. Other kids had opened yet another bottle of alcohol (seriously why did my father make it so easy to access? Why did he trust us so much?), and were passing it around. One kid tossed the bottle to another, and when he didn’t catch it, the bottle collided with Aunt Doris’s vase, breaking both the vase and the bottle, spilling vodka everywhere, and re-shattering the once glued together vase.

“Fuck!” I shouted. Sabrina heard the ceramic shatter and came over to help me scoop up the pieces. “What should I do? Should I go wake my aunts? How are they still asleep?”

“Old people can sleep through anything,” Sabrina said, crouched on the floor, putting the pieces into the top of the Cranium box to keep everything together. “Maybe just call your dad?”

“But then I’ll ruin his weekend and he’ll drive home tonight. I don’t want to do that. Maybe I should call Ari…” I said. I went into the kitchen, grabbed the cordless phone, and dialed his cell phone number.

“Hello?” Ari said after a few rings. Thank goodness he answered.

“Hey Ari, how’s it going…” I tried my best to keep calm and play it cool over the phone.

Ari groaned loudly, and I could tell I was interrupting his big weekend, but I needed his help. “Vic, I’m at a party, can I talk to you tomorrow?”

“Ummm, do you have a couple of minutes?”

“Fine. What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I… I think Dad is going to kill me tomorrow. I think I’m going to be in BIG trouble.”

“What did you do, Vic? Did you order too many clarinet reeds online or something?” Ari sarcastically joked. I quickly caught him up with what had happened. After he stopped laughing, he said, “Don’t wake up Doris and Agnes. They’ll overreact. You said you’re with Sabrina right now?”

“Uh huh,” I mumbled. 

I motioned for Sabrina to come toward me. “I think we’re taking a gamble here, but since I’m four hours away, I can't really do much. Sabrina’s dad is probably the best bet, and I think we can trust him. Neither you nor Sabrina have partaken in the illicit activities, have you?”

“No, neither of us drank or smoked anything.”

“Good. Put her on the phone please?”

I handed the phone to Sabrina. “Ari wants to talk to you for a second?”

“Mmhmm…. Okay… you’re right… Here’s his number… Thanks Ari, have fun in New York. Bye!” Sabrina hung up the phone before I had the chance to speak with him again.

In the next room, someone made the music even louder. “What did Ari say?”

“He’s going to call my Dad and explain what happened, so he can help end the party and get the kids home.”

Soon, Sabrina’s father and brother were at the door, and they quickly helped break up the party, encouraging people to call their parents. A few kids high fived me as they left when their parents came to get them and told me I had hosted a great party.  As people were leaving, I went down to the basement to make sure my aunts were okay - they were still sleeping on the couch. Sabrina’s dad helped me clean the living room and kitchen, which I greatly appreciated.

“So you didn’t mean to host a party?” he asked, sweeping up shards of the broken vase.

“No! I thought it was going to be the four of us, playing video games! I would have never hosted a party like this, with alcohol especially, without my father’s permission,” I said, collapsing on the couch.

“You know that you have to tell him, right?” Dr. Levinson said.

I nodded. “I know. He’s going to be so mad at me.”

“You have such little faith in your father. I think he’ll understand.” He sat down next to me and put his hand on my back. “Do you want me to call him tomorrow morning?”

“No. I’ll call him tomorrow, before he gets home.”

“You’re a good kid, Vic,” he said. “When Sabrina, Tanner and I leave, you should probably go wake up your Aunts… I can’t believe they slept through a house party,” he laughed.

“Aunt Doris snores so loudly, I’m surprised we could hear the party over that…”

* * *

When my Aunts woke up the next morning, they were none the wiser. I didn’t tell them about the party, but I called Dad and explained everything, and he seemed to take it in good spirits, and understood that things that out of hand very quickly but I didn’t mean for it to happen. He said we’d try to glue the vase back together later in the week.

I was in bed reading when Dad and Ari finally got home. Aunts Doris and Agnes went home after dinner - Dad said it was okay to leave me home by myself for a few hours. “You awake, Pup?” he asked, poking his head in the door.

“Dad! How was your weekend? Did you have a nice time with Elio?” I asked.

He sat down at the edge of my bed, and I sat up against my headboard. “I did. The driving and traveling is difficult, but we’ve only got a few more months before he’s up here for good. Oh! He played me some of the pieces he’s been working on. I think you’d like them.”

“I’ll ask him to play them in a couple of weeks, after we get back from Leah’s Bat Mitzvah.” We’d be in Seattle the following weekend for my cousin’s Bat Mitzvah, and I assumed Elio would be here the weekend after that. “You really love him, Dad, don’t you.”

“I do.” He sighed loudly and began looking at the wall. “Sometimes it still makes me feel guilty, how easy it is with him, that we’re able to have this time together now.”

Dad always looked so conflicted when he talked about the past. “Mom died almost two years ago, Dad. She’d want you to be happy.”

“I know that, Vic. It still doesn’t make the guilt go away.”

“Guilt about being with him all of these years later?”

“Guilt for lots of different reasons. Sometimes I feel guilty that I lost twenty years with Elio because I was not brave enough to be with him then, and he took me back so easily this summer. Guilt that we benefit from so many others who fought for acceptance of same sex couples by risking being together in public. Elio was brave, lived openly, but I couldn’t. Not then. But then I feel bad for having those thoughts, because I had a wonderful marriage with your mother, and that gave me the two best children I could have ever asked for. I even felt guilty having such a nice weekend away from you and your brother. But, we’re Jews, we love to torture ourselves overthinking everything and wracking ourselves with guilt. I shouldn’t be piling this on you, you’re just a kid.”

“I’m not a kid anymore. You don’t think I feel bad about everything all the time? I even feel bad that someone broke Aunt Doris’s vase. And that I broke your trust by having a party.”

Dad mussed my hair and laughed. “You didn’t break my trust, you didn’t know that kids you didn’t invite were going to come over. Though I really do not appreciate that they were drinking my good whiskey.” He pointed at the bottle that was still on my nightstand that I had confiscated.

“I think I knew that people were coming over, they had started saying things during rehearsal, I just wanted to feel popular for a few minutes. But I didn’t invite anyone but the three people you had already approved, I swear.”

“I believe you. Just… don’t do it again? And maybe next time, wake your aunts up so they don’t remain in the dark about being in the house during a party?”

“Should I not have called Ari?” I asked.

“No, that was the right call, if you were too afraid to call me. I’m glad you trust your brother. But next time, please call me immediately?” He picked up the bottle of whiskey and began playing with the neck of the bottle. “It was smart of your brother to call Howie.”

“Did Howie tell you about it before I called you?” I asked. Dad was too calm when I talked to him this morning for him to not have already known.

“Yeah, he texted me yesterday.”

“I’m really sorry, Dad. I promise I won’t have another party, as long as I can stop people from inviting themselves over.” Dad started laughing hysterically, and I joined him. “It’s funny, though, isn’t it?”

He smiled at me, and I didn’t think he looked angry. “Elio and I had a good laugh about it. How do you keep winding up in these situations?”

“I don’t know.” I knew. People liked taking advantage of me because I’m nice. But if I told Dad that, he’d want to turn this into an even bigger lecture, and I was not in the mood for that. “I’m tired, can we talk in the morning before school?”

“Of course, Pup. Good night,” he said, kissing my forehead. Somehow, it was simultaneously both unsettling and calming to know that all of the feelings of confusion and that every decision I made was going to let someone down never went away. If Dad felt that way all the time, that must just be how the world worked for us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember when I used to post one chapter every night? How did I have all of that time last year?
> 
> We'll return to Oliver and Elio in the next few chapters, don't worry. We just needed to hear from both boys right now. Vic had his little adventure, and we got to see how Oliver parents, both when he's with, and when he's not with his kids.
> 
> I've told a couple of you the direction that I want to take this story, and I really hope you'll all enjoy it. I've got a few more chapters planned before Elio moves in with the boys, and from there, I think the story will be a bit more fast-paced.
> 
> Thank you all for your support, I'm so thankful to everyone who comments and reads and reaches out.


	12. I Danced My Socks Off at Leah's Bat Mitzvah

_**POV: Elio** _

_**Friday, October 5, 2007 - Sunday, October 7, 2007** _

Sometimes things don’t work out as planned. Sometimes you spend the night sleeping in the Chicago O’Hare airport instead of in your partner’s arms. I should have just booked a flight out of Philadelphia, like my father suggested, but Newark had a direct flight to Seattle, and I didn’t want to have to deal with a layover. I strongly regret that decision now.

Oliver and the boys flew to Seattle on Thursday afternoon, and I had every intention of arriving around the same time on Thursday night. We were supposed to spend the day exploring Seattle together on Friday, before the boys’ cousin’s Bat Mitzvah on Saturday. Instead, after I sat on board the plane for over three hours, it never took off due to mechanical problems. The airline rebooked us to various cities for layovers to make connecting flights to Seattle. Of course I was booked through O’Hare, and when I ran as quickly as I could to make my connection, the plane had left without me. The airline told me to stick around to see if they could fit me as a stand-by, but after two flights with no available seats, they couldn’t rebook me until the morning. Without my luggage, which HAD made it to Seattle and Oliver graciously went to pick up, I slept in the terminal, anxious to just get on a plane and finally reach my destination.

So, in the comedy of errors that is apparently now my life, my flight from Chicago to Seattle also had over two hours of delay. At least this time, it was before we were seated on the plane. When I finally arrived in Seattle in the early afternoon, I was exhausted. I called Oliver when I landed, and he had taken Ari and Vic out sightseeing, as had been the original plan - I told him to keep on with the schedule, and I’d meet up with them. I was so tired, that I just wanted to take a nap. I was able to get a key to Oliver’s hotel room from the hotel front desk, and I immediately collapsed on the bed.

I awoke to Oliver sitting on the edge of the bed, gently kissing my forehead. “Hey, I didn’t mean to wake you, we just got back from the museum,” he said. I reached my arms up for him, so he kicked off his shoes and snuggled up against me. “You’re finally here, though!”

“I missed you,” I said, wrapping my arms around him and kissing him softly. “Getting here was a nightmare, but it’s worth it, because I’m with you now.”

We quickly tore off each other’s clothing, and he allowed me to channel my frustration from traveling into a very satisfying lovemaking session.

Oliver began putting his clothes back on, and I groaned. “Stay in bed, kiss me some more, please?”

“We need to go grab the boys. We were going to go to Pike Place Market. Do you want to come with us?” he asked, while pulling his jeans back on.

“Can I take a quick shower first? I haven’t showered since yesterday morning.”

Oliver plugged his nose with his fingers and pretended to scrunch up his face. “Should I start calling you Pigpen? Or, are you unfamiliar with the _Peanuts_ gang, since they’re not _Tintin_  characters?”

“Hush, I’m more of a Schroeder, anyway.”

He smirked at me and began tying his shoes. “Maybe brush your teeth while you’re at it?” I threw a pillow at him, for good measure. “We’ll meet you in the lobby.”

* * *

I found Oliver, Ari and Vic in the hotel lobby, sitting on a couch. Ari was texting on his phone, and Oliver and Vic were looking at a travel guide.

“Elio! You’re finally here!” Vic shouted when he saw me turn the corner. He jumped off of the couch and ran over to give me a hug.

“Hey Vic! Enjoying your trip so far?” I asked.

He nodded. “We haven’t been here since I was a kid, but Seattle is so cool! We went to the Experience Music Project Museum, which was really fun! We also had brunch in the rotating restaurant in the Space Needle.”

“I’m sorry I missed that. I bet the views were great.”

Vic shrugged. “It was cloudy but we could see some things. The food was just okay.”

Oliver walked over to me and put his arm around my shoulder. Ari was still sitting on the couch. “Hi Ari,” I laughed.

“Oh, hey,” he said, never picking his head up from his phone.

“Ari, put your phone away and let’s go,” Oliver instructed.

After two warnings from Oliver, Ari still ignored him, typing away on his phone. Oliver reached over, grabbed it out of his son’s hand, closed the flip phone, and put it in his pocket. “You’ll get this back later.”

“But DA-AD, that’s my PHONE! What if Jasmine texts? Or anyone from the play?”

Oliver handed Ari back his phone. “I’m feeling particularly generous today. Don’t spend the entire day texting, please? Just remember who pays your cell phone bill.”

We walked along the waterfront toward Pike Place Market. Oliver and I walked hand in hand, which pleased me. I understood that he was still working through internalized homophobia and some very realistic fears, but I loved when he was publicly affectionate. Holding my hand was a small gesture that meant everything to me.

“You missed so much already today, Elio! When we woke up, Dad drove us to Discovery Park, and we hiked for an hour and a half. That was so much better than being forced to go for a run, it was so nice out!” Vic started babbling. “I took so many good pictures.”

“And then he insisted on stopping in every coffee shop we passed on the way back to the hotel,” Ari laughed.

That explained why Vic was even more energetic and buzzing than usual. “I never used to like coffee, but then I started drinking the Nespresso in Italy and now I really like the taste of coffee! And the coffee here is so good! I have to try it everywhere!”

“He’s going to crash in a few hours, isn’t he?” I asked Oliver.

“We’ll make sure we’re back at the hotel before then.”

We stopped in the Olympic Sculpture Park to take pictures of and with some of the sculptures. When we got to Pike Place Market, we walked by the Gum Wall, which to my surprise, Vic was thoroughly amused by, but almost nauseated Ari, who started gagging looking at the millions of pieces of gum. I would have expected the reverse reaction from Oliver’s sons.

After watching the fishmongers tossing fish to one another, we wandered the market, buying small samples of food, and rummaging through various shops. Vic brought the DSLR that Oliver had bought him for his birthday, and was taking pictures of everything. 

Even though we were only buying small things, Oliver kept insisting on paying for everything, arguing that I’d already spent enough time and money trying to make it to Seattle for him. “Oliver, you know I’d fly halfway around the world and spare no expense just to see you for a day. But I appreciate you paying for this piece of chocolate.”

We filled up on tons of snacks and food samples, and eventually decided to head back to the hotel to change for the Friday night service.

I put on my slacks, my button-down shirt, and my tie, and sat on the bed waiting for Oliver to take a quick shower. He walked out of the bathroom in just his towel, his hair and torso still dripping with water. Oliver went over to the full-length mirror and began scrutinizing his barely receding hairline, grimacing at what he saw. “When did I lose so much hair? How do I have so much grey?” he asked.

I got up from the bed and walked toward him. I tousled his hair and smiled widely. “There’s barely any grey, and whatever there is, no one can notice because your hair is still so light. My grey hairs are immediately noticeable on this dark mop.” I ran my fingers through my hair, for extra impact. “You look just like the stunning 24 year old who stole my heart twenty years ago, only with a few more laugh lines.”

He frowned and added, “When did I get to be so vain, though? Why do I care about this?”

“Because you’re human? And I like every single inch of you, grey hairs and all.” I tugged his towel off, letting it fall to the ground at his feet. “Why don’t you let me show you how much I like every... single... inch,” I said, looking down at his cock, already growing hard at my suggestive tone.

“I’d like that very much…” With that, I got on my knees, gripped his ass tightly while taking his length in my mouth, and slowly gave him a religious experience far better than the one for which he flew to Seattle.

* * *

“Why does Elio get to sit up front? I’m taller than he is…” Ari groaned, sitting in the backseat of the rental car.

Oliver turned his head around to face Ari while we were at a red light. “Can you just cut it out? We’ve been over this before. Try to be nice when we see your cousins, please?”

“Ugggghhhhh Aunt Doris and Aunt Agnes are enough, do I really need to pretend to care about whatever Leah is doing in her ballet class now?”

“Yes!” Oliver and Vic shouted in unison.

I was nervous about how the evening was going to go. After the telephone conversation that I’d had over the summer with Deb’s cousin Sharon, I felt fairly confident that her family would be welcoming, but I’d be meeting most of Oliver’s dead wife’s extended family this weekend. There was no way this was not going to be awkward or that someone wasn’t going to say something mean or disrespectful to Oliver or me. Regardless, I had been invited, and I always wanted to be there for Oliver.

Oliver seemed to notice how nervous I was. After we pulled into the parking lot and started walking toward the synagogue, he put his hand on my back. “Boys, go ahead, we’ll meet you inside.” Ari and Vic slowly made their way in, while we stood in the parking lot. “You okay, Elio?”

I nodded apprehensively and took a deep breath. “How do we do this? Should we be touching each other? Should we have Vic sit between us? What if they don’t like me?”

He smiled and rubbed my back some more. “Everyone loves you. You’ll be fine. And I don’t think we should make out or anything, but they know we’re together, we can just… be.”

“I think I’m worried I’m going to offend them because I’m not Deb…” I admitted.

Oliver pressed his forehead to mine and sighed. “No, you aren’t Deb. But you are my Elio. I know that most people here are her family, but she passed away nearly two years ago, and I hope that they can accept that I’m with you now. Sharon wouldn’t have invited you to come with us if she didn’t think the family would accept you.”

“Let’s go in, then,” I said, attempting to muster the courage.

For the second time in a month, Oliver and I walked into a synagogue and all eyes were on us. Then again, all eyes were always on Oliver when he walked into a room, but I could feel everyone’s staring at me, too.

“Dad! Elio! I saved you seats!” Vic shouted, patting the bench next to him. We slid into the row, with Oliver sitting on the end so as to not block anyone sitting behind us. The Friday night service started soon after, and the boys’ cousin Leah helped lead the service. She was a cute kid - thick curly brown hair, freckles, maybe five feet tall.

After the ceremony, we went into the next room for the Kiddush ceremony, where Leah’s parents, Sharon and Nathan, had catered with a few cakes and cookies, aside from the ceremonial challah and wine. I stood off to the corner, while Oliver and his sons mingled with their cousins, hoping to attract as little attention as possible. However, Agnes and Doris pulled over a few elderly relatives. “Arlene, Muriel, Seymour, this is Elio, the man I was telling you about. He’s Oliver’s boyfriend.” She said my name in three very long syllables, and stressed the word boyfriend as if it were the most scandalous thing to come out of her mouth.

“He’s very handsome,” Muriel whispered to Agnes, but they were in their 70s or 80s, so what Muriel thought was a low volume could easily be heard from halfway across the room.

“I told you! He’s a professor at Princeton, and he’s Jewish!” Agnes said, placing her hand on my arm. “Elio, this is our brother, Seymour, his wife Arlene, and our cousin Muriel.”

Arlene placed down her wine glass and took another good look at me. “The feyguhlehs are always so handsome, aren’t they. Though you’d never know it by looking at him, or Oliver either, for that matter. I wonder if Deborah knew.”

I decided it wasn’t worth explaining the spectrum of sexuality, and that I wouldn’t ask them to stop using offensive Yiddish slang terms. “Ummm…. Thank you?”

Oliver locked eyes with me from across the room and mouthed that he was sorry. He was locked in a conversation with someone else and couldn’t rescue me. Instead, I entertained each of their questions as best I could. Soon, Oliver stood behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder. “It’s so nice to see you all,” he said, giving each person a hug or a handshake.

“We were just getting to know your boyfriend here. He’s got quite the accomplished resume!” Muriel said.

“He does! And you should hear him play piano some time, he worked with Vic over the summer.”

Over the next hour, I met a few more relatives, and to my pleasant surprise, most people just wanted to ask about my educational background or confirm that I was Jewish. Other than a few insensitive words from older people who didn’t realize they were being offensive, the family was surprisingly welcoming.

The evening wound down, and it was soon time to head back to the hotel, so we could wake up and do it all over again in the morning. Once the boys said good night and went to their hotel room adjacent to ours, Oliver and I sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off our shoes.

“That wasn’t as bad as I was expecting,” I said, resting my head on his shoulder. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to Sharon, though. She told me over the summer that when we meet, she wanted to chat with me.”

“I think you’ll have more time tomorrow. I barely had time to say more than two words to her, she seemed pretty frazzled tonight.”

“Was it hard for you, being out there with me, publicly, in front of her whole family?”

Oliver shook his head. “Being with you is easy, I couldn’t do this without you by my side. I wish I’d had the courage twenty years ago. I’d be lying if I said that suddenly being out, in front of everyone, Deb’s family especially, is easy, but I want to just be able to live my life with you. I don’t want to have to do it in secret.”

I laced my fingers with his and squeezed his hand tightly. I knew that Oliver was bisexual, but he’d always kept that side of him hidden, and he was making a lot of changes all at once so he could be with me. He was trying his hardest - accepting who you are and what you want, reconciling it with what you were taught you should be and should want, takes time. “I love you, Oliver. Whatever you need from me, whatever you want me to do, I’ll always be here for you.”

“There’s certainly a few things I can think of that I want you to do…”

After the few things and more that he wanted from me, with which I gladly complied, Oliver laughed when kissing my stomach.

“What’s so funny?” I asked, looking down at him.

“Your stomach has been rumbling,” he said, giving my belly one more quick kiss.

I thought for a moment. “I guess I haven’t actually had a full, real meal going on two days.”

“Then get dressed, we’re looking for food.”

Oliver knocked on the boys’ door to let them know we were just grabbing some food and we’d be back soon. Vic was asleep, and Ari was sitting on his laptop with headphones on. “Can you bring me something, too? I’m starving.”

“Sure, I’ll text you when we find something that’s open. Can you promise me you’ll stay in the room and keep an eye on your brother?”

“Dad, he’s asleep, and I’m talking to Jasmine. I’m not going anywhere.”

We went down to the concierge and asked if there was a bar or a restaurant that was still open this late. She recommended a fast food chain a few blocks from the hotel.

As we walked, Oliver held my hand once more, which I loved. We arrived at the restaurant, called _Dick’s Drive-In_ , which was thankfully open until 2AM. We each ordered a Deluxe, an order of fries to share, and planned to order the same for Ari and Vic right before we left. “Isn’t Vic asleep?” I asked.

“Yeah, but if he wakes up and finds out we got Ari a burger, he’ll get angry. Better let it go to waste than not give the boys the same things.”

We also got a strawberry milkshake with two straws, to share. “I feel like a teenager going on a date to the soda fountain,” Oliver smirked, after we took a simultaneous sip of our milkshake.

I ate my burger in record speed. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was, but I really needed this burger,” I said, with my mouth full.

“Though it seems like there was another Dick you were more interested in a half hour ago…” he joked.

“Sorry, right now this _Dick’s_ Deluxe has got my full attention…”

Oliver munched on a french fry and placed his hand on my thigh under the table. “Too bad this Dick’s Deluxe has **MY** full attention…”

I finished my burger as quickly as I could and Oliver went to order food for his kids. He dropped the food off with Ari, and then Oliver and I went to bed far later than we should have, given we had to get up early for the Bat Mitzvah.

* * *

I’ll never tire of seeing Oliver in a suit and tie. The slim cut pants made him look even taller than his already daunting 6’5”, and after he fixed his hair in the mirror, I audibly gasped.

“Look at you, this is why my mother and Mafalda used to call you _la muvi star_.”

He began blushing, and fixed his hair once more. “You’re not so bad yourself. But you can’t wear your hair like that, let me fix it for you,” he said. I waltzed over to him and watched as he wet his fingertips, massaged my scalp, and put a dollop of gel in my hair. “There, what do you think?”

I examined my hair in the mirror, noting that he tried to accentuate the curls. “You seem to know your way around curly hair.”

He shrugged, indicating it was no big deal. “Vic inherited Deb’s wavy hair, so I had to learn how to fix his hair when he was younger.”

Each new detail that I learned about Oliver as father made me love him even more.

“You’ve seen some pictures of the boys when they were little. Vic was so cute, with that dark mop of soft curls and those big blue eyes. Ari looks much more like me than he does his mother, but I’m glad Vic looks like her.”

“Speaking of, we should probably grab the boys, eat breakfast, and head out…” I suggested.

* * *

As we walked into the synagogue’s sanctuary, Vic had difficulty pinning his yarmulke to his hair, so I assisted him. The service was less boring than I would have expected, but part of that was my surprise that the synagogue had a female rabbi. Not that I went to synagogue all that often, but I’d never seen a female rabbi before, so I whispered and asked Oliver if that was common.

“I think it’s less common in Conservative synagogues, but more than half of Reform rabbis these days are female,” he whispered.

“That’s so cool!” Vic whispered back, listening to our conversation. I was soon left alone for a few minutes when Oliver, Vic and Ari were called up together to read from the Torah. Vic seemed the most excited, while Ari was begrudgingly participating. I enjoyed the eye contact Oliver made with me for most of the short time he spent on the bima. It was a feeling that was hard to describe, but I never felt as loved as I did when I could feel that all of Oliver’s attentions were directed at me, even in a crowded room. When he sat back down next to me, he reached over and quietly held my hand.

* * *

Leah’s party was unlike any child or teenager’s party I’d ever seen. If I had thought that Vic’s Bar Mitzvah was extravagant for a thirteen year old, I could not have prepared myself for this. The catering hall was a giant loft space that overlooked the Puget Sound. Sharon and her husband had spared no expense. Everything was sparkly and pink, there was an ice sculpture of ballet slippers in the center of the room, and there were servers handing out hors d'oeuvres and cocktails. The boys quickly scampered off to start scouring the room for food, and Oliver and I each grabbed a glass of wine and began to make our way around the room.

Thankfully, Agnes was on grandmother duty, and Doris was following her around, so they weren’t constantly attacking us with questions. We made small talk with some people that Oliver recognized, and with each new person that I spoke with, Oliver introduced me as his partner, Elio. He was publicly and happily announcing to family that I was his partner. I was so proud of him, and so filled with love and adoration.

During dinner, Vic was seated at the dais with the other young teenagers, but due to the lack of peers, Ari was put at our table, much to his confusion and chagrin. Oliver let him have one glass of wine, and that seemed to lighten his mood somewhat.

When the emcee announced that Leah was entering the room, she danced into the room on pointe, wearing a dress with a feathered headpiece that I thought was meant to evoke _Swan Lake_. She quickly changed out of her ballet slippers, put on sparkly heels, and began the requisite prayers and candle-lighting ceremony, during which Oliver and the boys were called up to light a candle, and Deb was mentioned for the in memorial candle. 

After we ate and drank another glass of wine, Oliver grabbed my arm and forced me onto the dance floor. Though his dancing skills had not improved, his moves were endearing, but I wished we could dance as close to one another as we had done in the club in Rome. We called both Vic and Ari over, and took a few pictures of the four of us in the photo booth. I had mine printed in a frame that I could put on my desk at work, and Oliver had his made into a magnet to put on the fridge. Vic also asked me to take a picture with just him, which I thought was endearingly sweet.

I needed a break from the dancing and socializing, so I went back to our table to rest my feet. Sharon came over to me and sat in Oliver’s chair. “Hi Elio, I’m Sharon,” she said, extending her hand. She had a firm handshake.

“Thank you for inviting me, this is a lovely party. Your daughter looks beautiful,” I said, pointing at her on the dance floor, dancing with her friends.

We made some trite small talk before she cut to the chase. “I’ve been watching you this weekend, with Oliver, with the boys.”

“They’re great, aren’t they?” I said, trying to show how much I cared for them.

She took a sip of her water. “I know you love Oliver, but you love the boys, too. You’re gentle and caring with them, even Ari, when he gets grumpy and hormonal.”

“I do love them, all of them. I… I can’t ever replace Deb, and wouldn’t want to, but if I’m going to be in Oliver’s life, he and the boys are a package deal.”

Sharon gently put her hand on my wrist. “The way Oliver looks at you… he never looked at Deb that way. Things are different with you.”

I stayed silent for a moment, trying to come up with a response. “Oliver loved Deb very much.”

“I know. She loved him, too. They had a good partnership, but it wasn’t a romance, there was never a passion, not the way you two are in love. I can sense that. She always assumed he would muster the courage to find you again and leave her once the boys were grown up. Given the circumstances… I’m glad you were able to find each other again.”

Maybe it was the wine, but I was overcome with emotion and used my napkin to dab away at the tears that were starting to gather in the corner of my eye. “As long as they were together, I would have never, ever, tried to break up his family.” She nodded understandingly. “Oliver didn’t actually have the courage on his own. Did you know we were pushed back together by his sons?”

“How did they… Did Deb tell them?” she asked, digging her elbow into the table and resting her hand on her fist.

I shook my head. “No, they overheard us talking at Vic’s Bar Mitzvah. I wasn’t even supposed to be there. My mother conveniently couldn’t fly, so my father suggested that I come up from Princeton and take her place. I’m pretty sure that my parents were scheming, too, but Ari and Vic planned the trip to Italy and kept forcing us to interact with one another. Oliver was still too sad and in mourning, but the boys encouraged it.”

Sharon stopped to think about what I told her and then began laughing. “Well, I’ll be damned…”

We chatted for a few more minutes, a much warmer conversation than I was expecting. She told me a few stories about the boys, a few things that Deb had told her about, or worries that she had about them as they grew up. “She worked extra hard to keep Ari in check, because he’s so headstrong and stubborn. And Deb was always worried that Vic was going to be a pushover, because he’s so sweet and caring and trusting, and that people would take advantage of that. Make sure to keep an eye on that, and teach him how to stand up for himself. Also, it wasn’t a concern or a worry, but she always thought that there was a chance Vic was gay.”

“If he is, he’s got nothing to worry about. Oliver always made sure that his kids knew their parents were accepting. Though, he did have a girlfriend over the summer, and it was really adorable.”

Sharon soon excused herself to make the rounds and mingle once more. “It was nice chatting with you, Elio. Keep taking good care of all three of them.”

Oliver came over to the table and wrapped his arm around my waist. “She looks happy. Did you have a good talk?”

“We did. She gave me some advice and I’m pretty sure she welcomed me into the family…”

He pulled me close and kissed my forehead. Oliver pulled the magnet out of his pocket and looked down at the picture of the four of us. “What a family we make.”

* * *

I’d had much more to drink than Oliver, or maybe his tolerance was much higher than mine, because I was very tipsy by the time we loaded back into the rental car on the way to the hotel after the party.

“Look at the gift they gave out!” Vic said, showing me a bag. “Socks that say _I danced my socks off at Leah’s Bat Mitzvah_!”

Ari handed Vic his bag. “Here, you can have mine, too. These are never going to fit me, and I’m never going to wear them.”

Vic handed the bag to me. “I don’t need two... Elio, you can have Ari’s!”

“Oliver, think I can pull off these pink socks?” I asked jokingly.

“Definitely.”

“Oh, Elio, I almost forgot…” Vic reached into his gift bag and pulled out a handful of items he’d made at the photo booth. “This is me and Ari… me and cousin Leah… me with Aunts Doris and Agnes… here we go. I asked the photographer to print you a keychain with the picture of the two of us!” The picture was the two of us, holding inflatable musical instruments, Photoshopped in front of the Space Needle. Cheesy, but cute.

“I’ll put that on my keys when I get back to the hotel, I promise.”

Once we were back at the hotel and had deposited the boys in their hotel room, I locked the door to our room behind me and immediately jumped into Oliver’s arms. Our lovemaking that night was slow and tender, full of the love and passion that Oliver and I both shared. I kept happily replaying it over and over during my flight home the next day, which thankfully departed for Newark on time. Oliver and I kissed each other in the airport, and the countdown began until we saw each other in Boston on Friday.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently I'm only capable of updating this story once a month... sorry for the delay. At least this was a long one? :)
> 
> Thank you all for your continued support and comments/kudos/etc..
> 
> Let me know if you need any of the Jewish/Bat Mitzvah-related things explained, and I'll gladly do so!


	13. Drain the Battery

_**POV: Oliver** _

_**Tuesday, October 9, 2007 - Saturday, October 27, 2007** _

After our return from Seattle, it was business as usual in the Morgenstern house. When he wasn’t at school, at soccer, debate team, or play rehearsal, Ari was holed up in his room, doing work, or more likely, talking to Jasmine. Vic was spending more time than usual at the piano, preparing his audition for the Boston School of the Arts, which was in a few weeks. Elio’d helped him pick out several audition pieces, and had been working in tandem with Vic’s piano teacher to hone in on the right song. Vic had already tested into the honors program at Ari’s school if he chose to go there next year, but we’d decided to wait and see if Vic got into the performing arts school and what sort of scholarship he might earn before making a final decision.

“Do you think he’ll get in?” I asked Elio when we were talking on the phone one weeknight. “I know I think he’s the best, because he’s my kid. In your professional opinion, what are his chances?”

“Ol, he’s fantastic. He’s incredibly talented. If he practices his audition piece enough, I’d imagine he has a real shot.”

“Not that we’re poor by any stretch, but when budgeting for the future, we always assumed both boys would go to public school through the end of high school. It's why we paid more money to live in Brookline. I’d need to rearrange some accounts or figure some things out if he gets into BSA. I wasn’t expecting to have to pay a college tuition and a private high school tuition at the same time,” I complained. “We set aside most of the life insurance payout for college, but I’m not sure it’ll cover everything.”

I could hear Elio typing on his laptop on the other end of the line. “I’ll help pay. For Vic’s private school tuition, or Ari’s college tuition, or your mortgage. I want what’s best for the boys, too, you know.”

“Elio, I can’t expect you to pay for my kids’ education. You’re not my sugar daddy. It’s my responsibility.”

He sighed loudly. “But we’ll be living together. I want to help in any way I can. I love you, and I love your sons, and I have the financial means.”

“We’ve never really talked about how we’re going to split finances when you’re up here. Maybe we should talk about it this weekend.”

“Probably a good idea. But I’d rather just cuddle all weekend and pretend like responsibilities don’t exist....” Elio said wistfully. “I wish we were just in the villa, in heaven, with nothing to worry about.”

I closed my laptop, carried it out of the office, and into the bedroom, closing the door behind me. “Did I tell you that they want me to help facilitate an HIV-testing event at the LGBT Center at Tufts?”

“No! You said they wanted you to get involved, though. Are you going to do it?”

I sat down on the bed and took my slippers off. “I think so. They want me to help mentor some undergraduates who might be struggling with their identity, too. How can I really help someone if I’m only recently allowing myself to publicly be what I’ve repressed for most of my life?”

“Oliver… you can help them. I remember when I was in college. I was lucky, my family didn’t care whom I loved or dated, but sometimes society made me feel guilty for dating or sleeping with all of those men. You can be a positive role model, and help them not go through what we went through when we were their age. Imagine if you had someone like you when you were in college.”

If I’d had someone like me in college… I wouldn’t have, because I wouldn’t have been willing to make that first step to talk to someone about the internal anguish I was feeling about my sexuality. But my life played out the way it did for a reason. I got my sons. I was able to reconnect with Elio. Maybe we wouldn’t have happened in the first place. It wasn’t worth revisiting the what-ifs again and again. We were together, and that was ultimately what mattered. “‘All of those men’? How many men were you sleeping with in college?” I asked in a playful tone.

“I’ve told you about some of them. Remember Elliott Perelman? I mean, there were women, too, for what it’s worth. I had a lot of fun in college and graduate school. I was still trying to get over you.”

“You probably had more fun than I had. I did four years of school in three years, and I had to work to pay most of my own way. Any man I slept with, I was drunk, and it was done in secret. Honestly, I don’t remember a lot of the details.” I sat against my headboard and sighed softly to myself. “Tell me about some of the people you slept with.”

“This won’t bother you?” Elio asked. “Do you just want to know about the people, or do you want to know the tawdry details of what I’ve done in the past twenty years?”

He understood where I was going with this. “Details, please. I’m glad you had an active sex life, it makes me feel a little less bad about how things ended then. I was always worried I’d scarred you for life. But tell me the sordid details.”

I could hear the cogs spinning in Elio’s brain, he was trying to remember a particularly salacious story to whet my appetite. “Did I ever tell you about Roger?”

“Nope. Go on.”

“He was my professor the semester before I thought Marzia had gotten pregnant. The time in my life when I was somewhat careless.”

I interrupted him. “You slept with your professor?”

“Did I finish my story yet? I did not sleep with him while he was my professor. When I got back from the summer, I went to a music department social, we got a little drunk, and he came back to my apartment to help me with a piece I was writing. The next thing I knew, our clothes were off and I was taking him from behind against my dresser.”

“Was it a one time thing, or did you date him?”

“Neither of those. He was married, so we mostly slept together secretly. He wanted to bring me home to have a threesome with his wife, but I didn’t want to do that, thought I'd feel too guilty about the lying. After a few months, I ended things, because I didn’t want to be a homewrecker. As far as I’ve been aware, I haven’t been with anyone who was already in a relationship since then. But, I was young then, and I think because we were sneaking around, in a different way than you and I were sneaking around, it made the sex exciting. I think I stayed with him for longer than I should have because he reminded me of you somewhat. He was tall, though not as tall as you, and had similar mannerisms. Do you think less of me now, for having slept with a married man?”

There were so many things over the past two decades that had reminded me of Elio. There had been a few men I’d slept with at conferences or school events that had reminded me of him. But they were never Elio. “Of course not. I was having sex with other people while I was married, but my wife suggested it. Is this where you tell me the sexy specifics, or do I just need to open the password-protected folder you set up for me with pictures of you?”

He began laughing. I loved his hearty laugh. I could picture the slight creases around the corner of his eyes and the little wrinkle he gets in his nose when he smiles. “Okay, okay. I’m impressed with how quickly you can go from talking about finances to wanting to have phone sex.”

“I can’t help it. Just hearing your voice sets me off.”

“Hmm… specifics… There was this one time, we were at this fancy dinner party thrown by another professor, and Roger blew me in the coat closet. I was holding onto the coat rack, and when I came while he was deep throating me, I knocked over the entire rack, and we both fell over. There was semen all over both of our suits, which we were thankfully able to clean up quickly enough. Every coat and jacket had fallen to the floor, and we haphazardly hung them back up on random hangers, each on the wrong hanger with the wrong ticket. It took hours for people to get the right items back.”

“Peaches, your professor’s suit, all over me. Where else have you spread your seed?”

“Hey! You wanted to hear some stories. I’m telling you the more memorable ones. What else can I tell you? When I was nineteen or twenty, I went home from a party with a girl. Mid-fuck, her roommate walked in on us, and she was the girl I had slept with the previous weekend and not called back. I thought the dorm room looked familiar. She threw my clothing into the hallway and I had to run around half naked collecting my things while their hallmates watched. I think at the time, I was mostly angry because I hadn’t come yet, but I’d gone down on her and made her come at least three times. Whenever I slept with a woman, I always made sure she came first.”

“I think you told me about that one over the summer, but it’s still really funny. I would have definitely stared at that ass while you were running around naked.”

“Want to stare at it right now?” Elio offered.

Quickly, I made sure my door was locked, and then went over to my desk to open my laptop. “Which picture were you thinking of?”

“Not a picture. Why don’t we just video chat?”

He didn’t have to tell me twice. “See you in a minute, then. Let me just boot up my laptop.”

When we finally connected, Elio had placed his laptop on his desk, and was standing in front of the computer, facing the camera. He was already naked and very hard. “Take off your clothes, I want to see you, too,” he demanded. I very slowly unbuttoned my shirt, taking my time on each button. “Tick tock,” he said playfully, pointing at my Zayde’s watch, the only thing he was still currently wearing.

I threw my shirt to the ground, undid my belt, and threw my slacks and boxers to the ground, kicking them away. “Better now?” I asked.

“Much.” He said something else, but the screen paused a few times.

“I don’t think we have the best connection. Before I lose you, turn around and let me see that ass.” Elio followed my command and did a slow 360.

Before we knew it, we were each touching ourselves, watching the other do the same. Even though we weren’t in the same room, watching Elio masturbate while I did the same was highly erotic. We both climaxed at nearly the same time.

Of course, that was the perfect moment for our connection to freeze. On chat window, I could see Elio mid-climax, and myself in a far more compromising position. I went over to the computer after wiping myself off with a tissue. “Hey, Elio, can you hear me?” Radio silence.

I moved my mouse and clicked a few times, and began pounding on my keyboard. It wasn’t our connection, it was my computer itself. I held down the power button in an attempt to reboot, but the screen was just frozen with this image. I closed the laptop and opened it again. Same picture. I picked up my phone and dialed Elio’s number again.

“We got disconnected,” Elio said. “Perfect timing.”

“We weren’t disconnected, my computer froze. And I can’t get the picture of us off of the screen.”

“Did you try restarting it?” Elio asked.

“Yes, and I unplugged it and plugged it back in. Nothing is working.”

He looked up some ways to fix my computer, and led me through some of the steps. Nothing worked. “I haven’t backed up the latest draft of my book, and it’s on here. What do I do? I usually ask Ari or Vic for help, but… they can’t see my computer screen right now.”

“Maybe leave it unplugged to drain the battery and try again in the morning?”

“That seems to be the best option right now. I should go check on the boys and make sure everyone’s ready for bed soon. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?”

“I love you, Oliver. I can’t wait until we’re living together.”

“I love you, too. And neither can I. Then we wouldn’t need to video chat to get each other off.”

* * *

I unplugged the laptop, mostly closed the screen in case one of the boys came in, and let it drain overnight. When I went to check in the morning, it was still frozen on the same screen. I was fucked. I closed it, threw it in my briefcase, and figured I would find someone who could fix it for me.

What followed was one of the most mortifying hours of my life, wherein I brought my laptop to an IT person at the university. When he saw my screen, he looked at me and couldn’t contain his laughter, but promised it was an easy fix. He opened the back of the laptop, jiggled a few wires and performed a miracle. I prayed that he would exercise discretion as to what he saw on the screen, but at least my computer was fixed. I texted Elio to tell him that we were in the clear, my laptop was fixed, and that I hadn’t lost my book. However, maybe it was the last time we did something like that for a while.

* * *

As the leaves began to turn orange and red, and the temperature took a precipitous drop, the next few weeks seemingly flew by. The semester was in full swing, with my classes, Ari’s soccer games and debate tournaments, Vic’s concerts and various performances, meetings at the LGBTQ club, and more. Bless Elio’s willingness to drive up every weekend. I promised Ari that next week, I’d drive down and stay with Elio and take him to visit Jasmine again.

Meanwhile, this morning, we had the 5K fundraiser run at Vic’s junior high, our last one ever. Elio had said that he didn’t care what he wore as long as we were spending the weekend together, so I picked out costumes that worked together thematically, but didn’t scream “couple”, since I was still worried about rubbing it in people’s faces, especially given that Deb had passed less than two years ago.

“Sit still,” I said, as I combed gel through his hair, trying to slick it back.

“Dracula? This is what you thought would be a fun costume?” he asked, fidgeting while I fixed his hair.

“I’m going as Frankenstein’s monster, and I think you look handsome as a vampire.”

“Do I have to wear the cape while we run?”

I shook my head. “Not if you really think it’ll be distracting.” I walked over to the mirror, glued the bolts to my neck, and fixed my green makeup. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have picked a costume whose identifying feature I would sweat off while jogging, but we looked good together.

Once we had our costumes on with our running shoes, we waited near the front door. “Boys, come on, we need to leave soon!”

Vic walked down the stairs in his Mozart costume. I took a few pictures, because this was probably the last time he would ever wear a costume that I thought was adorable like this. Elio helped tuck the cravat into the vest and smiled at me. He was beaming with pride.

Soon, Ari ran downstairs in a suit, wearing sunglasses and a drawn on goatee and carrying a backpack. “This is the Borat costume you were going to order?” I asked. “I thought he just had a moustache?”

“I changed my mind. I’m wearing this instead.”

“And what are you supposed to be?” I asked, figuring it was a reference to a television show or a movie I didn’t watch.

Vic covered his mouth laughing. “Dad, he’s Dick in a Box.”

Ari opened the backpack and took out the rest of his costume, a cardboard box covered in wrapping paper, attached to a belt. “Ariel Jonah, you ARE NOT wearing that out in public, do you understand? Maybe, MAYBE I would let you wear that to a high school party, but we’re going to a fundraiser for a junior high! There are going to be children there! That is so tactless! I thought you had gotten more mature this past year, but I guess I was wrong.”

He stormed up the stairs, swearing under his breath. “You ruin all the fun!”

“Go put on something else resembling a costume, please? We need to leave in ten minutes.”

Ari stormed upstairs and slammed the door to the bathroom, where I hoped he was washing the fake facial hair off. “Teenagers,” I sighed, sitting down at the dining room table.

“We’re not all bad, Dad. Ari just thought he was being funny,” Vic said, sitting next to me. He kept fidgeting with his wig.

“Why don’t you take the wig off when you run and put it back on after? You’ll be more comfortable that way,” Elio suggested.

Ari came back downstairs in slacks, one of my button down shirts, and carried one of my solid dark ties. To the shirt he had stapled three black circles.

“Is this from another _Saturday Night Live_  sketch about the male anatomy?” I asked, looking at Ari’s costume.

“No, I’m Three-Hole Punch Jim from _The Office_. This was the best I could do in ten minutes. Sorry I’m wearing your clothes.” He didn’t seem that sorry.

“Fine, just get in the car so we can get to the school, please?”

Once we got to the school, Ari immediately abandoned us to hang out with his friend Zack. “Your parents didn’t let you wear the costume, either?” Ari asked Zack.

“Didn’t even make it out of my bedroom.”

I took Elio around to meet some of the other parents - we received a few strange looks, but otherwise, everyone was perfectly friendly toward Elio.

We found the boys at the starting line, and about a half mile in, Elio stopped and leaned over, catching his breath. “You okay?” I asked, stopping with him.

“I haven’t really been running on my own, not unless I’m with you. Not sure I can do 5k without stopping. I think I need to walk for a bit. Keep going, I’ll meet you at the end.”

I nodded and ran ahead to catch up with Ari, who, in the middle of soccer season, was in peak physical shape and was running ahead of me. I looked back and saw Vic handing Elio the bottle of water he had been running with - it seemed they were going to keep each other company, so I didn’t mind Elio falling behind.

After sprinting ahead, Ari and I took the rest of the race at a quicker pace together. I was surprised that he was willing to run with me, but with the way Ari had been acting recently, I’d take what I could get. Given most people were wearing restrictive costumes, neither of us had our best times, but we still managed to place in our respective age groups, Ari in third, myself in second. Ari probably could have won if he wasn’t running at my pace, but he didn’t complain.

Practically twenty minutes after we finished, Vic and Elio jogged across the finish line (okay, jogged is a loose term - they walked), smiling as they chatted with one another. I wished Ari would take more time to get to know Elio, but given that Vic would be living with Elio for at least the next five years, I was glad they had such a good rapport.

I escorted Elio into the junior high, where the school hosted a brunch for all of the runners and spectators. We sat down with Trudy Wasserstein and her boyfriend, while my sons regrouped with their friends. Vic had put his wig back on, and I noticed that a few girls had gone over to chat with him. One short girl with red hair kept giggling and touching his shoulder - Vic had said that girls usually ignored him and that he barely had any friends, but it seemed this girl was flirting with him, so maybe there was hope for him yet. He just needed to develop more confidence, which would come with age and experience. I wasn’t that confident at his age, either. His brother certainly was, though.

Never did I imagine that I’d be able to go to a school function for my children, with Elio by my side. I certainly had the best looking partner at the event, and even in his silly costume, he didn’t seem to mind having gotten up early to spend his morning and afternoon at a junior high in the Boston suburbs. While we were sitting alone, I noticed he was looking over at Vic’s table, watching him closely.

“You okay, Elio?” I asked, nudging him.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” he said, taking a bite of his waffle.

I sipped my orange juice and sighed. “You sure? You look a bit melancholy.”

“I’m fine. Thank you for taking me with you today, I’m having fun. I’m just... a little sad that I’ll never really get to experience this,” he frowned. I placed my hand on his back and gently rubbed his shoulders.

I aimed for some levity and responded sarcastically. “What, being in an American junior high? Dealing with teenagers? We’ve got two hormonal ones at home who love you one minute, and scream at you the next.”

He raised his eyebrow at me and chuckled. “Oliver, it’s fine, I’d rather be with you. I want to be here for Vic and for Ari. It’s just that Ari is mostly grown up and Vic will be in high school next year, so I’ll have missed most of their childhoods.”

“Why don’t we see how things go once you’ve officially moved in, and we can maybe talk about this more? I mean, I said over the summer that if you wanted to have a child, I would do it with you, but in the end it’s your decision. I’m with you no matter what. Hypothetically, we would need to do more life and financial planning before we committed to adding a fifth member to the household, though.”

He kissed my cheek and smiled. “My mother will be thrilled that we’ve had this hypothetical conversation, then.”

The rest of the weekend, like all previous weekends together, was far too short. However, we only had two more months until Elio officially moved in with us. Until we were officially together, with no distance between us, with no time restraints, with no defined expiration date. Our lives were already intertwined, but once he moved in, our lives would be so much simpler, so much less stressful, and hopefully, full of all of the love and joy that I never could have anticipated us sharing in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy moly... I have been writing this story for ONE YEAR as of August 3rd!!! I can't believe that I've been able to tell this story for so long (and I still have so much story left, I promise!). Thank you all for following along for the past year and for being such a wonderful and supportive audience. I've made so many friends from this community, and I am so grateful.


	14. A Small Favor

_**POV: Elio** _

_**Monday, October 29, 2007 - Friday, November 9, 2007** _

I loved my job, but I was beginning to dread weekdays. Sometimes the five nights a week I spent alone felt longer than the twenty years I had to wait for Oliver to return to my life. But, those two nights a week that we were together, made all of the driving, all of the years of pining, all of the loneliness during the week, worth every minute I spent in limbo waiting for his return.

Oliver’s desire to know about my entire sexual history brought back a flood of forgotten or repressed memories of my youth. Admittedly, I was relieved and a little turned on that Oliver wasn’t jealous, and in fact got off on stories of my sexual escapades. 

During graduate school, I went to DC with Roger for a conference, and we spent the weekend at a fancy hotel; one night, I’d had a vivid, sexy dream about Oliver. In my dream, Oliver was holding me after we’d just made love, and was whispering sweet nothings in my ear. The sorts of things he would say to me the first time we were together, where he didn’t have to say anything in particular for me to completely understand what he meant by them. Back when our time was limited, and we had to make every second count, so it was important not to waste any words like the days we’d wasted before we were together.

I’d wanted to live in that dream forever if I could, but I woke up to Roger spooning me, softly rubbing my back. He’d asked if I was okay, and that I’d been muttering my own name in my sleep. I’d never told him about Oliver, but Roger was perceptive. He knew that he wasn’t my soulmate. The one time he said that it was obvious my heart belonged to someone else, I pointed out that his heart, too, belonged to another, given the wedding ring on his finger, and that he’d said on multiple occasions that he found monotony in monogamy. That quickly ended any further conversation about our future.

Life with Oliver was anything other than monotonous. Sure, it wasn’t the sexy romp I’d imagined it would be when I was seventeen, and involved more trips to the grocery store and the mall than I thought was possible, but there was warmth, and safety, and so much love. The commute was more draining than I would have expected, but I only had two more months, and then we’d be living together.

* * *

My parents asked me if Oliver and the boys were going to join us in Italy over the winter holidays.

“I know that I Skype with Vic all the time, but it would be so nice to see them before we come to visit in the spring!” my mother said.

“I’ll talk to Oliver about it this weekend,” I said. “I think the boys will enjoy that. Ari, especially, since Jasmine will be there.”

My parents were tittering in the background, and finally my father spoke up. “Actually, this will likely be the last winter visit from a summer student. Your mother and I have spoken about it, and we think it’s time that I retire at the end of this school year.”

“I never thought I’d see the day,” I commented. “What spurred this decision?”

“A little bit of this, a little bit of that,” my father said. “I’m getting older, and now seems like the time to retire so I can still enjoy my time. We’re certainly set in the financial department.”

First Oliver, now my father? I hated talking about mortality and making end of life arrangements. “You have plenty of time left to enjoy, papa, but if retiring would make you happy, I support it.”

“We were thinking that after the new year, once you’ve settled in, we’ll look to buy a pied-à-terre in Boston so we can come to visit more often,” my mother added. “When your father retires, we’ll have more time to visit you and your family.”

Thinking about a future, a lifetime, with Oliver, made me happy, and I was willing to make every risk and sacrifice to do so, but I couldn’t ask the same of my parents. “Do you think it’s a little early for you to start looking for places in Boston?” I asked earnestly. “I don’t even live there yet…”

“Is Oliver your one and only?” my mother asked.

I replied without any hesitation. “Of course. He always has been.”

“Then it’s not too early at all. That way, no matter what changes occur in your life, whatever you may need us for, we’ll have a place close by,” my father said.

We chatted for a little while longer until I needed to head to work. “Imagine telling me at seventeen that my life would be spending weekend afternoons with Oliver at Home Depot, picking out doorknobs and looking at paint samples.”

* * *

The next Saturday, I went to Tufts with Oliver for the mixer he helped plan at the LGBT Center. “Do you still have the postcards up in your office?” I teased, remembering the last time I was there.

“I do. They used to remind me that for the briefest amount of time, you and I had been together, and had been happy. They simultaneously made me sad but also gave me hope, knowing that you were still out there. I still have the same mixed emotions. I think about the two decades we weren’t together, but also that I have you once more, and that this time, I won’t leave you.”

Once we were at a red light, I placed my hand over his on the steering wheel and squeezed tightly. For the rest of the drive, Oliver tuned the radio to WGBH, and we listened to NPR until we got to the university.

Oliver’s event was larger than I was expecting. It was half information fair, half party. A DJ was playing some music, there were snacks and some food, different LGBT organizations from the Boston area had tables and booths that students could visit, and there were two nurses on site to do HIV and STI testing. I stood in a corner while Oliver made his way around to all of the tables, thanking vendors for coming, and stopping to talk to some students, and some adults whom I assumed were faculty. Given how nervous he was and how uncomfortable he seemed about working with the LGBT Center, in the midst of his event, he seemed to be in his element, working the room. Maybe it was my biased, but totally accurate assessment, but he charms each person with whom he speaks, which made me feel extra lucky that he’d chosen me.

When I was at the snack table, filling my plate with hummus and carrots, Oliver came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and rested his chin on my shoulder. “You know you can join me when I make my rounds, right?” he asked, holding me tightly.

“I didn’t want to be in your way. Anyway, this crudite was calling my name.”

“C’mere, I’ll take you to meet some folks,” Oliver said, dragging me across the room.

Oliver introduced me to the staff of the LGBT Center, a few other professors who were involved, as well as a few students who crossed our path.

“Professor M, is this your boyfriend?” someone asked. By his age, I guessed a graduate student. “He’s cute!”

He nodded and held me close to him. “This is my partner, Dr. Elio Perlman. He’s a music professor at Princeton, and soon at Harvard.”

“I’m just going to be a visiting scholar at Harvard,” I said, trying to play it down.

“Yeah, yeah, but you know they’re going to offer you a full time position. There’s no one else like you.”

Before we knew it, the afternoon had flown by. We chatted some more, we assisted some of the organizations by getting students to sign up for their mailing lists, and even danced some. It was probably a good thing that neither of Oliver’s sons were not there, because if I didn’t find it so endearing and weirdly sexy, I might have been embarrassed by some of his moves, too.

We took a walk down the hall to the room where they were doing HIV testing to see if the nurses needed anything. On the walk back to the main room, Oliver pushed me up against a wall and surprised me by kissing me roughly. Whenever he kissed me like this, unguarded, against a wall, I was immediately seventeen again, lost in the lust and desire and romance of our last tryst. We were interrupted by a student who walked by whistling at us; Oliver pulled away and we both dissolved into fits of laughter.

* * *

We couldn’t have gotten back to the house fast enough, and thankfully, neither of the boys were home. Ari was off doing who knows what with his friends (as long as Oliver didn’t mind, it didn’t seem to be my place to pry), and Vic was in New Hampshire with his school band on an overnight trip. I raced Oliver to the bedroom, a game he handily won given his longer legs, athletic prowess, and ability to distract me with a promise of what was to come.

The way he held me after sex told me everything I needed to know about how he felt about me. He held me close while we spooned, kissing and nibbling the crook of my neck, and running his thumb up and down my arm. His words, his motions, his closeness, all pulsed with love and desire. A different love than we had our first summer. It was more mature, deeper than I had thought possible, but also stable and warm. Whenever the exhaustion of travel kicked in, I thought about these moments and knew that I had made the right decision.

After an extended cuddling session, we began unpacking some of the boxes of clothing and books I’d brought with me. We’d decided that each time I drove up, I’d bring a few more bags and boxes of my things, making the impending move permanent. As their house already had a piano, we had to figure out how to move mine, but that was a problem for us to solve in the spring.

“How do you have so many books in German? Do you even speak German?” Oliver asked.

I laughed and responded, “Meine mutter spricht deutsch.”

Oliver shook his head, putting his head in his hand. “So how many languages can you actually speak?”

“Fluently, just the three, but my mother couldn’t resist teaching me about eighty others.”

“Oh, just the three,” Oliver mocked. “At this rate, I’m barely fluent in one.”

I sat on the floor emptying a box and handed him a pile of books to stick on a shelf that only he could reach. “I think you’re pretty fluent in Elio.”

Once the books were safely on the shelf, he crouched down next to me and tackled me to the floor, holding me down as he kissed me amidst a mess of books and papers. I loved the spontaneity and romance and didn’t want the kiss to end. If this moment was what my future with Oliver would look like, then my life was perfect.

* * *

The next morning, while Oliver was going for a run, I decided to make Nutella crepes for Oliver and Ari. Thankfully, the Morgensterns were now stocking their cupboards with Nutella for me, and I was eternally grateful. 

I brought my laptop to the kitchen and while I waited for them, I video chatted with Marzia. We’d scheduled the chat so I could wish Noemie a happy birthday. I caught Marzia up on the past few weeks, and then she brought Noemie to the computer. “Oncle Elly!” she shouted, waving at me. It had been nearly three months since I’d seen her, and her hair was already longer, and she looked bigger. Children grew up so quickly.

“How are you? How’s ballet?” I asked.

“Ballet is SO much fun! I’ll show you my plie and releve when I see you! I’m going to be a prima ballerina one day!” she babbled excitedly.

I smiled at her enthusiasm - Noemie was always so hyper and full of life. Marzia and Thierry had their hands full, but she was the sweetest kid I knew. “Did you get the birthday present we sent you yet?”

“Yes! Thank you! I love my piano!” she screamed. “Vic promised to teach me next summer. I do not forget a promise.”

“I can assure you, she certainly does not,” Marzia added with a laugh.

“It’s not a full piano, it’s just an electronic keyboard with a few octaves so she can play around with it. I thought she’d like it. And if it makes too much noise, you can just unplug it,” I said, knowing Marzia would have killed me if I’d gotten her something that was too loud.

“If I’m not a ballerina, which I will be, maybe I will be a piano player like Oncle Elly!” Noemie said.

As we talked, Ari came down to the kitchen looking for food. “I made some Nutella crepes, they’re on the counter in some foil to keep warm,” I said. “I can cut up a banana if you wanted to add some.”

“Nah, s’cool,” he said, with a mouth already full of food.

“Is that Ari?” Noemie shouted. “Hi Ari! I can’t see him, where is he?” she asked in French. It seemed her crush on Ari hadn’t waned in the fall.

Ari poured himself a glass of milk, sat down next to me, and waved at Noemie and Marzia. Oliver soon returned from his run, and shouted “It smells great in here! What’d you make?”

He walked into the kitchen in his Harvard shirt and slightly too short gym shorts, dripping with sweat and covered in soil and grass stains. He bent down and kissed my cheek, and waved at the computer when he realized we were video chatting. I loved the way he smelled after running outside - his masculine musk, the alluvial scent of the dirt clinging to his clothing. Alas, I was haplessly sitting with his teenage son and chatting with a four year old, or I might have leapt into his arms on the spot.

Oliver filled his plate with crepes and joined us at the table. “Happy birthday, Noemie!” he said between bites. “Did you get the Barbie we sent you?”

She reached across the table off screen and came back with the Barbie, adorned in a tutu and tights. “She’s my favorite new doll!”

“Thank you, Oliver, you did not have to send her anything,” Marzia said.

“Yes he did! It’s my birthday!” Noemie said with glee, barely disguising her mercenary motives for as many presents as possible. If she wasn’t a toddler, perhaps I’d be concerned with her Faustian desire for toys and attention.

Oliver chuckled and smirked at the screen. “What she said!”

I sat back and let Oliver and Ari chat with Marzia and Noemie. For a brief moment, it felt like a positive out-of-body experience, watching my partner, for whom I’d pined for half of my life, and his son, chatting happily with my best friend and her daughter. Our worlds were combining in such precarious, but wonderful ways.

* * *

While Oliver was picking Vic up at the junior high and Ari was at his school for a dress rehearsal of his musical, I sat at the piano tinkering on my latest composition. “That sounds nice,” Vic said, walking into the room. I hadn’t heard them come home. “Did you write that?”

“Hey, Vic!” I said, as he came over to the piano. “I did. I’m trying to whittle it down, though. I think it’s too clunky in some places.”

“Can I hear it?” he asked, sitting down at the couch closest to the piano.

I nodded. “Of course, you’re my favorite critic. Just keep in mind it’s not finished yet. I’m going for a pastiche of eighteenth century Russian composers.”

Vic sat with his head in his hands, listening to me play. “I like it,” he said, “But there’s too much going on.”

“That’s where I was stuck,” I said, taking a pencil and erasing a few notes.

“What if you wrote it for two pianos instead of one? You could have the competing themes, and it would have a fuller sound but also sound less confusing because it’s not all being played by one person.”

I mulled it over for a bit. “That’s brilliant. Are you sure you’re only fourteen?” I asked.

* * *

Oliver called me on Tuesday night with an idea. “Would you mind doing me a small favor when you drive up on Friday?” he asked.

“Depends. Do the rewards involve you, on all fours on the bed?”

“As long as you do that thing that I like, I think that can be arranged…”

My mind drifted into thoughts of taking Oliver from behind, and I missed some of what he was asking. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Were you imagining me naked?”

“Aren’t I always? Anyway, what did you want to ask?”

He cleared his throat and took a guttural breath. “Ari’s musical is this weekend, and you and I were already going to go on Saturday, but I was thinking, what if we asked Jasmine if she was free this weekend? Would you be able to pick her up in the city and drive her here for the weekend? I think Ari would really like her to be there, and it’s been a few weeks since they’ve seen each other.”

“Of course! I don’t mind. Should I get her contact information from my father and make the arrangements?”

“That’d be great. Just don’t tell Ari, I think it would be better if it was a surprise.”

“Are you going to let her sleep in his room?” I asked. 

Americans were always so uptight about the idea of their children’s significant others spending the night or being together in a room with a door closed. I knew Oliver wasn’t like that, but I was curious if he was different at home than he was in the villa. “I mean, it would be hypocritical if I didn’t. They slept in the same room all summer, and I’ve let him visit her dorm. I’m not one of those _not under my roof_ parents. I think if Deb were here, she’d have let her stay in his room, too,” he sighed. “Deb would have loved Jasmine. She’d have been disappointed that she isn’t Jewish, but she would have like that she’s such a smart and ambitious girl, and how it’s rubbing off on Ari.”

“He wasn’t ambitious before?” I asked.

“No, he was, but I think he’s more focused now. He’s naturally bright and sometimes doesn’t need to work for things. She’s shown him that even if you’re smart, you need to work hard to achieve your goals. He’s definitely working harder now.”

I got in touch with Jasmine the next day, and she was thrilled with the idea of surprising Ari. She was able to reschedule a work shift that Friday so we could leave early and get to the high school in time for the Friday evening performance.

I thought the drive up might be awkward because I’d never really spent time alone with Jasmine, but she was pleasant company, and kept me entertained for the duration of the drive. I called Oliver when we arrived, and he confirmed that Ari was already at the school, so Jasmine and I stopped at the house to drop our things off and change.

Oliver, Vic, Jasmine and I sat in the back row of the auditorium - Oliver offered for Vic and Jasmine to go toward the front, but said he needed to sit in the back for the comfort of anyone who might sit behind him otherwise. Jasmine suggested that sitting in the front would spoil the surprise of her being there.

And thus, I spent my Friday night watching a high school production of _Grease_. Some of Ari’s classmates could barely hold a tune, and at some point during the second act, I whispered to Oliver, “Are they just going to skip Rizzo’s song? That’s about the only thing I remember.”

“It’s an edited version, they skip the song because it’s too suggestive,” he whispered back.

Despite his classmates’ shortcomings, Ari was actually really great. He had good comedic timing, he was magnetic to watch, and he had the chops to sing his few solos. I was impressed.

We waited in the hallway for Ari to change out of his costume, and when he turned the corner and saw us standing there, he ran toward us once he spotted Jasmine. “Jasmine! You… you’re here! Were you here for the whole show?” I don’t think I’d ever seen Ari this happy, not even when I gave him his car.

They embraced and quickly kissed, before Vic started clearing his throat. “Surprise!” she exclaimed. “It was all your dad’s idea. Elio picked me up on campus and drove me here today. You were so good!”

He dragged her off to go meet his friends, and said they’d meet us at home later, as Ari had driven himself to the school.

Before Oliver and I went to bed that night, I curled myself in his arms. “I think bringing Jasmine up this weekend was the right idea. Ari was so happy,” Oliver said.

“You’re a great father. Your boys are so lucky to have you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're in November now! The boys will be living together come January, so we're almost there!
> 
> As a note, after a game last week where ashleymoshow and I gave words to onlyastoryteller to see if they could fit it into a [story](https://onlyastoryteller.tumblr.com/post/187364412625/challenge-accepted), (I was particularly cruel with "crepuscular"), onlyastoryteller thought it was only fair to exact revenge on me. Thus, I was given the words: alluvial, pastiche, hapless, faustian, whittle, and mercenary. See if you can see how I managed to work all of those in (alluvial proved the trickiest, given I had no idea what it meant)...
> 
> Thank you all for the kind words and the continued support <3.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! If you want to chat or if you have any questions, feel free to reach out in the comments or on tumblr! You can follow me on tumblr at [noodlekugel](https://noodlekugel.tumblr.com/).


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